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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24239407">This Is the First Day of My Life</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyllpickless/pseuds/dyllpickless'>dyllpickless</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Can't Take My Eyes off You [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Umbrella Academy (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(completely off screen), Abuse, Alternate Universe - Mob, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Dave Katz Speaks Hebrew, Dave Katz Speaks Yiddish, Dead Ben Hargreeves, Domestic Violence, Drug Use, Eudora Patch Lives, F/M, Guns, Hitman Dave Katz, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jewish Dave (Umbrella Academy), Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, M/M, No Incest, Other, Police Officer Diego Hargreeves, Torture, nonbinary klaus hargreeves, sex worker Klaus Hargreeves, sorry :(</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:55:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>40,567</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24239407</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyllpickless/pseuds/dyllpickless</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><i>There was a stretch of silence. “Fine,” he eventually said. “Don’t get yourself killed.”</i><br/><i>Klaus grinned. “I won’t.”</i><br/>-OR-<br/>In attempting to find more information on his brother's death, Klaus Hargreeves gets caught up in a lot of trouble with some very powerful people.<br/>Here's the tumblr post with <a href="https://dyll-pickless.tumblr.com/post/618396698682720256/this-is-the-first-day-of-my-life">a really really awesome edit</a> done by princejoopie!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ben Hargreeves &amp; Diego Hargreeves &amp; Klaus Hargreeves, Ben Hargreeves &amp; Klaus Hargreeves, Dave Katz/Klaus Hargreeves, Dave/Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves &amp; Klaus Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves/Eudora Patch, Klaus Hargreeves/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Can't Take My Eyes off You [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1807168</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>140</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>193</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>All Your Faves Are Jewish</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Don’t Say a Word, My Darling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys! So, yay mob au! This starts out pretty dark, so please keep an eye on the warnings. As proud as I am of this, y'all's safety is of utmost importance. Enjoy!</p><p>The title of this chapter is from "Perfect Wife" by Amigo the Devil</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was late, and Klaus was trying his hardest not to be loud. Technically, it wasn’t a secret that he went out and made money </span>
  <em>
    <span>a certain way</span>
  </em>
  <span> each night, but Edward always got angry when Klaus was overt about it. So, there Klaus was at four in the morning, sneaking in through the window of a house he’d lived in for months because he still didn’t have a key.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The window slammed shut behind him, and Klaus let out a shocked yelp. Thankfully, there wasn’t any disturbance from inside the house, so Klaus continued. Once he was securely inside, he straightened up and stretched his hands towards the ceiling above him, wincing slightly at the crack of his joints as the stretch pulled at some sore muscles. It wasn’t a bad sort of sore. It was a very, very good sort of sore that meant that meant he was making money and looking good. He took a few more seconds to twist out his back and touch his toes before venturing further into the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One good thing about never wearing shoes, Klaus had discovered after only a few days of living in the house, was that he never made noise, which meant he never attracted attention. Not that attention was a bad thing—Klaus thrived off attention, made money because of it. Still, though, his occupation usually brought enough bruises and marks on his skin that he usually tried keeping the number he gained at home to a minimum. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tried. His wrists still hurt from the last time he failed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snuck through the kitchen and started building himself a little sandwich. Dinner was limited to only a few foods: ones in quiet packaging, or things that wouldn’t draw a lot of attention if a little bit was missing. Eventually, he settled on a peanut butter sandwich, some pickles, and a slice of cheese. He tried not to look at the plate of leftover brisket for too long before closing the fridge. Some of that going missing would definitely be noticed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only sound that Klaus made the entire time he was eating was a small rustle of fabric when he jumped up onto the counter (pulling a chair out could make too much noise). The cool granite felt nice against his hot, sore skin, and the feeling of food in his stomach made Klaus sigh in relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he sat there eating, his mind began to wander. Like countless times before, the silence was quickly filled with voices.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Klaus, you need to—”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t see why you can’t just—”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh my god.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus shook his head quickly and carefully got off the counter, finishing off the last of the sandwich. He needed to see his papers again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe I’ll see something I didn’t see before. Maybe this time I’ll solve it.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He used a towel to clean up his hands, refolded it, and then set out for the hall closet, where the papers were kept. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could have gotten there with his eyes closed if he needed to, given how many times he’d made the exact same journey. There was something about coming home after a long night on the job that made Klaus want to sit down and lose himself in the mystery he’d been thrown into. Technically, he didn’t need the slightly wrinkled and curled papers laid out in front of him—he’d looked over them so many times that they were all committed to memory—but Klaus found that it was comforting to have everything there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there was something wrong. Klaus opened the closet, and the space where the box was supposed to be was empty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small, panicked noise fell from Klaus’ split and chapped lips before he could stop himself. “Where is it?” he whispered under his breath, diving forward to start pushing aside coats and bags in case by some weird impossibility he’d just </span>
  <em>
    <span>forgotten</span>
  </em>
  <span> where he kept the box.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where have you been?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sudden, penetrating voice behind him nearly made Klaus jump out of his skin. He jolted up and smacked his head on a shelf, the solid wood connecting right with a welt that had been forming under his hair for the past three days.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Blond hair. Blue eyes. A freckle to the right of his bellybutton. Daddy kink. $175.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He bit his tongue so his yelp wouldn’t be too loud. If Edward knew that he was already hurt there, then he’d know where Klaus got it and—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, it wouldn’t be good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said, where were you, princess?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus’ shoulders fell. He took a moment to school his face into a smile before turning. “Edward! How are you, my lovely boyfriend? I was just out taking a stroll, and I thought that I—</span>
  <em>
    <span>ah!”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He was cut off with a yelp as Edward reached out and grabbed his face, roughly tilting his jaw up and to the light. Edward sneered, then dug his thumb into a fresh cut on Klaus’ cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Blue hair. Black eyes. Big hands. Thing for knives. $149.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’d you get this? It looks fresh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus’ hands twitched at his sides as he tried his best to temper his reaction. His eyes darted around the room, looking everywhere but Edward’s harsh ones, which were, at the moment, trying to decode whatever thought was running through Klaus’ head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His grip tightened and he slightly shook Klaus’ face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Answer me.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus squeezed his eyes shut. “It was a client,” he finally said, his voice sounding small and weak. “I just got back from work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edward scoffed and shoved Klaus’ face away, sending him stumbling a few steps back. “Slut,” he spat. “How much did you make?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“348.” Klaus could finally breathe and was free to wipe the fresh blood from his face once he was a safe enough distance away from Edward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s my rent?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh yeah, that was another reason why Klaus didn’t want to attract any attention when he snuck into the house: Edward would take half of Klaus’ earnings for the night as “rent.” Klaus couldn’t complain, though. He knew where the money went.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus reached into the pocket of his skin-tight pants and pulled out the wad of cash that had been slapped onto the motel room counter while Klaus was at the sink, cleaning out the cut he’d been given. He didn’t even get a glimpse at the man as he left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus sighed and started thumbing through the stack of bills. He counted quietly under his breath, taking his time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gimme that,” Edward grumbled and snatched the money out of Klaus’ hand. Without really inspecting anything, he grabbed way more than half and stuffed it into his own pocket before shoving the remainder back into Klaus’ hand. “You take too long counting money,” he scolded. “Just leave things to me; I know what I’m doing. You’re not smart enough for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused and watched as Klaus returned the money to his pants. With his head tilted and his lower lip slightly out, he sighed. “Here, I know what will help you feel better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus perked up at that, looking at him in the eye for the first time that night. He knew exactly what Edward was talking about—it was what kept Klaus coming back to the house and the reason why he never objected to “rent.” Edward’s smile was oozing with satisfaction as he led Klaus to the bedroom. Klaus stood obediently by the bed as Edward went to the side table and opened a drawer with a key he always kept on his belt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edward turned back with a small vial with a white substance and a needle, and Klaus’ face broke out into a grin. He ignored the pain that came with his muscles tugging at cuts and bruises and rushed forward to sit on the edge of the bed. Edward shook the baggie out and walked up to Klaus, caging him in. Klaus didn’t even have to stop himself from backing up—the pull of the coke was magnetic enough to completely overpower any sort of fear that came with the closeness to Edward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s that pretty smile,” Edward cooed. He reached out again, this time cupping Klaus’ face more gently. He stayed there for a few minutes, knowing that Klaus would remain frozen in that position until he was told otherwise. Once he was satisfied that Klaus was completely compliant, he grabbed the needles and filled the syringe up with the liquid paradise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus obediently held his arm out and let Edward loop his belt around it and pulled tight. After a few seconds, Edward stuck the needle into the protruding vein and pushed the plunger in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instantly, there was a free, happy, pure smile on Klaus’ face. A cool, fresh chill rushed down his spine and spread through his body, chased by a wave of pleasure that was better than any orgasm. When his eyes snapped open, it was like somebody had turned on nine more lights in the room. He caught a glimpse of Edward pulling a different needle out of his arm, and a peal of laughter left his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus got up off the bed and twirled around on the floor, imagining a skirt fanning out around his legs. </span>
  <em>
    <span>God,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he wanted a skirt. There was a quiet ringing in his ears, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was just so happy and bright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Klaus,” Edward said, before repeating himself louder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?” Klaus asked airily, stopping his twirling to face him. For a moment, he couldn’t figure out if he was swaying or if it was the world. He decided it was the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What were you doing in that closet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Klaus closed his eyes and giggled, settling a tattooed hand over his bruised stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Blonde hair. Green eyes. Heavy boots. Cries after sex. $167.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span> “I was looking for the box. It wasn’t there.” He made a light popping noise with his lips and let his eyes slide to the wall behind Edward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What box?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know…” Klaus sighed and gestured with his arms. “The box. The one that says ‘Ben’ on it in big letters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edward sat heavily on the bed and scoffed. He reached back into the drawer and passed Klaus a small pill to take once he neared the end of his high. “I threw that shit out,” he said passively, like he was barely paying attention to the conversation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus stilled. “What? Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got tired of hearing you talk about it all the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Earth fell from under Klaus’ feet, and the only thing holding him up was a rapidly thinning string that swayed in the breeze. His mouth went dry, and when he spoke his tongue felt like sandpaper. The ringing got louder. “I don’t understand…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edward scoffed. He rubbed something onto his gums, then wiped his finger onto his pants. “Of course you don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clouds in Klaus’ mind were starting to part. He blinked. “Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re nothing more than a dumbass fucking whore,” he spat. “The only thing you have between your ears is empty space.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you got rid of my box?” Klaus stepped towards Edward and puffed out his chest. The happy feeling had completely faded away into white-hot anger , and he couldn’t stop himself from clenching his hands into fists. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“My</span>
  </em>
  <span> box?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Edward raised an eyebrow and looked down at Klaus’ fists. “What are you going to do? Are you seriously thinking about hitting me right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus set his jaw and nodded. “Yeah, asshole.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew it was probably the drugs. Well, not probably. It was certainly the drugs. His heart was pounding, the room was bright, and he felt like he was buzzing. His heart was pounding and his ears were ringing so loudly that he could barely hear anything above the din. All things that happened every time he did coke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It may have been the drugs, but it was also everything else. It was the fact that he didn’t have a key to his own house, or that he couldn’t eat what food he wanted, or that he always had to give up more than half his income, or that he jumped at the slightest noise, or that he would start crying if a man so much as raised his voice at him, or that—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A fist connected with Klaus’ face, and he saw stars. The cold hardwood floor rushed up and smacked against Klaus’ forehead, splitting open a half-healed cut. Pain exploded all across Klaus’ skin as blow after blow rained down from above. He wasn’t sure if he tasted tears, blood, adrenaline, or a mixture of all three, but either way, he felt close to throwing up. He choked on his own voice (or maybe on the astringent taste in his mouth) as he finally began to bed for Edward to stop. Thankfully, after a few more seconds, he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get out,” Edward sniffed, straightening up and grabbing a tissue to use to wipe the blood off his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus’ head was still full of cotton, and all he could really hear was a horrible ringing and his own heartbeat—so maybe he misheard him. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> out of my house and never come back, you good for nothing, worthless piece of shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, no, I don’t—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rough hands grabbed Klaus by the wrists and started dragging him across the floor and out the bedroom. “I said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>get out.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus’ bare feet kicked out and scrabbled for purchase, but it was no use. Edward had always been stronger than him, and Klaus had never been able to do anything about it. He was helpless. The door was ripped open, and Edward dragged him down the stairs and threw his limp body onto the sidewalk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> see your face again, you hear me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus flinched and nodded. Edward spat in his face, and it landed right beneath his eye. He didn’t move to wipe it off, though. His arms were frozen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Piece of shit whore,” Edward mumbled before turning on his heel and stalking off, leaving Klaus only with the clothes on his back, a rather thin wad of cash, and a small blue pill.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus wiped away the spit and shivered in the icy night air. There was only one thing he could do from there.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It’s almost surprising how quickly a person can walk a mile and a half in sub-zero temperatures when they know that their destination is a heated building. Klaus would have made a joke if he wasn’t a hair's-breadth away from bursting into tears and shivering more violently than should be deemed healthy for any person, not to mention a person of his very slight build.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could have started crying when he finally reached the laundromat and saw a fresh pair of chunky, multicolored socks and some ratty, beaten up shoes in the lost and found. He quickly put them on and walked up to the help counter, </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> wiping away a tear on the way there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can I help you?” the man behind the counter asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus smiled with chattering teeth, trying not to show just how desperate he was. “I need to make a call,” he started, digging his hand into his pocket and pulling out the crumpled bills. Thankfully, they were all relatively small ones. After thumbing through, he pulled out a ten-dollar bill. “Can you break this into quarters?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man—his nametag said “Art”—sent him a withering look. “You want me to give you forty quarters?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, when he put it like that, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> sound like a lot. But he needed to make sure he wouldn’t run out of time on the phone call he was going to make, and he had no idea how long it would be. “Yes, please.” Klaus looked around the laundromat, then glanced out at the parking lot, before returning his gaze back to Art. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No Edward. Good.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Art sighed heavily and for a moment he just stood there with his eyes closed, running his hand through his hair. Like it was causing him pain, he slowly reached beneath the counter and pulled out a roll of quarters. He slapped it on the counter and it started to roll away from Klaus, following the slight slight slope. Thankfully, Klaus’ quick reflexes let him catch it before it fell onto the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Klaus said brightly, shooting the man a smile before turning on his heel and marching over to the payphone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had the number memorized by heart—it was the only one (besides 9-1-1) that he could dial in a heartbeat, but he still had to pause to calm his pounding heart before he pressed the first digit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The phone rang twice before the other person picked up. “Hello?” The voice on the other end was rough with sleep, which was fair given that it was almost four in the morning. “Klaus?” That also made sense, because this was not the first time Klaus had called his number from a payphone. It happened so frequently, that any unknown number was Klaus-until-proven-otherwise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Di.” Klaus couldn’t help but smile at the familiar feeling of the nickname on his tongue. Or, maybe it was a grimace at the memories it brought up. He didn’t want to dwell on the subject long enough to come to an answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Klaus—It’s 03:49. What is so important that you couldn’t have at least waited until 07:00 to call?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus’ smile (grimace?) soured. </span>
  <em>
    <span>First things first.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I lost the box.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which box?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ben’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> box. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The</span>
  </em>
  <span> box.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a heavy sigh on the other end, followed by a noise that made Klaus guess that Diego was getting out of bed and walking into his kitchen so he wouldn’t wake his wife. After a few seconds, Diego started talking again. “You’re still on that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus frowned. “Of course I am. He’s our brother, Diego. How—”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Was,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Klaus. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> our brother, but then he killed himself because he was ashamed of what he did. He was corrupt, and he hurt people, and he knew that. That’s that. You need to let it go. It’s been four years.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus’ heart was in his throat and he was pretty sure he was choking on it. He shook his head quickly and swallowed his heart down and didn’t speak until it was closer to his chest than his teeth. “No,” he started, but he immediately stopped. This time it was tears that were in his throat, and he had to clear it before he could get any more words out. “I know he didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diego sighed. This was a conversation they’d had a million times before, but he still played along. “How do you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can feel it! It’s like he told me himself. Diego, I swear, I—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feelings aren’t proof, Klaus. You need actual, hard evidence. You know, the sort of thing that will hold up in court.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” Klaus glanced around the laundromat before hugging the phone closer to his face and lowering his voice. “I need an address.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diego sighed again. Klaus could imagine him rubbing his temples. “Whose address?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damien Caspary.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dam—Klaus, you want the address of the head of the biggest crime family in the Northeast?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep. And either you’re giving it to me, or I’m breaking into the police station—because I know you guys have it—and getting it for myself, and then I’ll leave a nice little note to your captain explaining who just broke into and then left a police station with valuable information.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a stretch of silence. “Fine,” he eventually said. “Don’t get yourself killed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus grinned. “I won’t.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for reading &lt;3 And shoutout to @totallyevan's tua discord server for supporting me throughout this. Special thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/livtontea">livtontea</a> for beta-ing this! </p><p>The next chapter's title is from "All of the Drugs" by The Brobecks</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Keep Her Awake</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title of this chapter is from "All of the Drugs" by The Brobecks, a song introduced to me by the wonderful <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/princejoopie/pseuds/princejoopie">princejoopie</a>!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Maybe Klaus forgot to mention the fact that he was technically homeless during the call, but that didn’t matter. He had the address of the man who he suspected had information on Ben’s death, and there was only one more thing to do before he followed in his brother’s footsteps and went investigating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The longer he spent in the laundromat, the more he could feel the effects of the coke start to wear off. His mind was starting to feel slower, more lethargic; he could feel his limbs shaking while his movements seemed to take more effort, and worst of all, he was already starting to feel hungry again. He could take the downer that was sitting in his pocket, but he wanted to be as alert as possible for what he was about to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Needless to say, Klaus was grateful that he’d gone against Edward’s orders and kept his connections with a few dealers on the streets. Sure, the connections were rocky at best and violent at worst, but it was better than nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, when Klaus hung up the phone and finished pocketing his admittedly comical amount of quarters, he skipped down a street and quickly veered down a darkened alley. From there, Klaus easily made his way through the city in the beat-up Converse, the left sole flapping as he walked. Despite everything—the scream of his cut, beaten, and bruised body with each movement, the bite of the cold reddening his face, the torturous comedown, the looming knowledge that he didn’t have anywhere to sleep that night—Klaus was in a </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> mood. He had a bit of a skip in his step as he followed the ever-familiarizing maze through the city. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Klaus!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, that joy flipped into a deep, primal fear. Images of Edward—or one of Edward’s cruel and handsy friends—coming towards him flashed in his vision. He turned to see who had called his name, and the terror on his face fell away into a grin. “Jay!” he crowed, opening his arms to pull the near stick-figure into a hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeez, you look terrible,” Jay observed with a wince when they pulled apart, talking through placing a kiss in the air beside each of Klaus’ cheeks, which were returned. “What happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus scoffed and waved a dismissal hand. “Just work stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of Jay’s eyebrows, the one with two rings in it, arched up. “You’re kidding me,” he deadpanned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jeez, Klaus, I didn’t know you were actually going to follow through with it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus stuck his hands in his ratty jacket pockets and grinned. “And whose fault is that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jay scoffed and rolled his eyes in response. “Well, where have you been?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, shacked up with some guy. Didn’t last.” Klaus shrugged. “You know how it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” was the slightly concerned reply. “How are you doing with everything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…” Klaus trailed off, looking down at his sneakers. “You know, things could be better, things could be worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jay sent him a sad smile. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, so how are things working out that college application so you can be a hacker?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Software engineer,” Jay corrected with a laugh, but it died quickly. “And, uh, not very well. Turns out nobody wants a queer, black, homeless sex worker to go to their college.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus frowned. “That’s bullshit. Don’t worry, you’ll get into one soon. I can feel it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, dude,” Jay replied gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, so, I hate to ruin the mood, but—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to know where Zach is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—do you have any idea where Zach is? Wait, hey!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jay shook his head. “Yeah, I do, but I don’t think he’ll be very happy to hear from you. You know, you still owe him a lot of money from all those other times you ripped him off, and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, I have money now! And I have a plan for whatever I can’t pay off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He doesn’t let people suck his dick to pay off debts. You know this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus shot him an award-winning smile and danced over to a dumpster, where he started drumming his fingers against the metal. The echoing noises filled the dark alley with a sort of haunting music. “I have a plan,” he repeated. “He likes me. Now—where is he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jay sighed. For a moment, he just stood there and sadly looked at Klaus. “You aren’t budging, are you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus arched a stubborn eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. He’s over by Strings, that stupid club that you got yourself beat up in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus stepped over to Jay, grabbed his face with his two hands, and kissed his forehead—ignoring his protests. “Thank you,” Klaus murmured before pulling back. “This was nice, we should meet up more often.” With that, he began to walk away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, unless one of your clients finally kills you first,” Jay called after him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus chuckled and lifted his left hand to wave behind him. Though the tattoo wasn’t visible in the dim light, the message was clear: goodbye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be careful!” Jay added, right before Klaus disappeared around the corner. “Jeez,” Jay whispered to himself, before shaking his head, pulling his oversized faux-fur coat tighter around his slim frame, and walking in the opposite direction.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is it,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Klaus thought to himself as he looked at the house that loomed over him. He took a deep breath, sent a silent word of thanks to Zach for the liquid courage flowing through his veins and for making his pockets significantly lighter (and his knees a little sorer), and shook out his hands. He took a step towards the back yard and the sole of his left shoe made another sound—so loud in the still night air that it might as well have been a gunshot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a dramatic sigh, he leaned down, unlaced the shoes, and stepped out of them. He knew the cold air was already at work numbing out his toes as he walked over to the side of the house, but it wasn’t like he could feel it, so he didn’t care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus was no stranger to sneaking into houses, and this one was no different. When he first stepped in through the back door and quietly closed it behind him, he was slightly surprised that the house of such a high-profile person wouldn’t have a security system. A small part of him said he should turn back, something was off, but he just shrugged it off and continued further into the house. He had made it too far to stop now just because some old dude wasn’t as paranoid as expected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The house was cold, and if it weren’t for the coke Klaus had shot earlier, he would have been shivering. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you, Zach.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He could practically hear his own heartbeat in the still, dead silence of the building. The carpet swallowed any sign of footsteps (a luxury he didn’t have at Edward’s house) and Klaus’ breathing was muted enough he could have been a corpse and it wouldn’t have made much of a difference.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Good.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Stealth was probably the most important thing to keep in mind when breaking into a known crime boss’ house in the middle of the night, high on a hit of coke. Or, at least that’s what Klaus guessed. This was, in fact, his first rodeo in terms of the whole crime boss thing. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>In the cold, dead stillness of the house, Klaus could have sworn he heard a whisper—a call of his name—from up the stairs. Not just from any voice, though. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ben.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ben,” Klaus almost called out, but he pressed his lips together at the last moment. He knew what he had to do. And he didn’t need to ask. His task was there for him, laid out as plain as day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a small smile to himself, he ran up the stairs without a sound. At the top sat a tall, heavy grandfather clock. Klaus let his fingers brush over the carved surface of the wood as he floated past, down the even darker hallway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slowly put one foot in front of the other, before he stopped. He had no way of knowing if it was his imagination, or if it was real, but there was a slight breeze that brushed over the tops of his feet, coming out from under a door on his left. It was freezing cold—somehow colder than the rest of the house—and it chased a shiver up his spine. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus’ fingers rested on the icy doorknob for a second before he fully gripped it and turned it. His heart dropped when he flipped the light switch to take in the sight before him. It was a messy room, with boxes of files stacked on every surface and overflowing with papers. It would take </span>
  <em>
    <span>months</span>
  </em>
  <span> to get through everything, and he barely had hours. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without fully realizing it, Klaus started walking into the room, past all of the other boxes, not stopping until he reached one box in particular. It was heavy—he could barely get it off the table and onto the ground—but he made it. Then, he sat down on the floor, crossed his legs, and started sifting through the contents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, it seemed like nothing. Reams of spreadsheets, lists of seemingly random names, manila envelopes that were practically bursting at the seams. It was those that he decided to look through first. None of them were labeled, because of course they weren’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You would think that with such a big crime organization, they’d have somebody to organize their shit,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Klaus thought, shaking his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled out a rather large envelope, unbent the clasp, and took a deep breath. </span>
  <em>
    <span>After this, there’s no going back,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he realized. But he knew he didn’t care. Diego was right: he needed proof. And Damien Caspary was too shady, his connection with Ben was too suspicious, for it to be nothing. He was going to find that proof. With a nod, he grabbed the thick stack of paper and pulled it out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus had to bite his tongue so he wouldn’t scream. He threw the papers away from him the moment he saw the bright red on the top page. There was a photo of a </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead person</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He didn’t need a good look at it to know. This was all suddenly way too big.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I have to go. I need to get out of here.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus stood up and made his way back to the door, trying not to panic too much. The ringing in his ears was louder than ever, his heart was in his throat, he could barely breathe. Just as his fingers rested on the doorknob, he heard it again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Klaus.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Ben. Klaus was positive. He had to stay and look around. For Ben. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bit his lip so it would stop quivering and slowly picked his way over the mountains of boxes and papers until he arrived back at the box he had been looking through. With a deep breath, he steeled himself and picked up the two packets. Shutting one eye, he slowly turned it and looked at the photo again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chills ran down Klaus’ back. He couldn’t look away. Her fingertips were bright red like they’d been sanded down, there were dark purple marks around her wrists. He knew how somebody got those marks: rope. The worst part of the entire photo wasn’t the way her throat was slit open from ear to ear, or how her blood soaked her entire shirt with a deep crimson, or the cigarette burns on her arms. It was the frozen look of horror on her pale face, the black streaks from her eyes, the way her lips looked like they were still begging until they stilled. She died afraid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus shoved his free hand up over his mouth and against the underside of his nose. His skin dug into the split that was left by yet another satisfied client.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dark brown hair. Hazel eyes. 12 piercings. Foot fetish. $165. (Extra for the foot fetish.)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Not so surprisingly, the pain pushed away the urge to throw up right then and there. Klaus took a few moments of just breathing, trying not to get worked up into a panic attack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, no,” he whimpered, flipping the page. The second sheet was a list of facts, Klaus guessed it was about the victim: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Brooke Harpole, age 24, writer for The Daily Inquiry.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  In the upper right-hand corner, there was a lone letter: D.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, Klaus couldn’t muffle the sob. Brooke. Klaus knew that name—he knew it well. Ben was best friends with her in college, and they both picked up a once-in-a-lifetime job at the newspaper, which was famous for its tell-all stories revealing the deepest, darkest secrets of some of the most powerful people in the country. She went missing a few weeks before Ben died.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god,” he repeated, choking on a few tears that fell onto his cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gently placed that packet of papers to the side and picked up the next one. He squinted past the tears. This image was different. A lot less red. He scrubbed harshly at his eyes but immediately regretted it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This person’s death was a lot cleaner than the first. There were no bruises and very little blood. The only sign that they were dead was a bullet-sized hole in the right side of his head. Klaus didn’t need to flip the page to see who it was. He could recognize his brother in a heartbeat.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Sir, there’s been a break-in at House 3.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damien’s lip curled as he looked up from the monitor, away from the live footage of a slight person crying in the middle of a room, surrounded by boxes, papers, files, and folders. </span>
  <em>
    <span>His</span>
  </em>
  <span> boxes. “Yes, I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The security guards had left their posts. They’re being taken care of as we speak.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded his approval and turned back to the screens. After a second of watching the sobbing, beaten figure, he spoke again. “Wasn’t it you who hired those security guards?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Erm, yes sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damien hummed. “Dispose of him, too,” he said to one of the other men in the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, no, sir—” The assistant’s voice was cut off as a cloth was shoved over his mouth. His struggling quickly ceased, his limbs going limp before he was dragged out of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damien spoke again, this time to the man who took the spot the assistant had just disappeared from. “First thing in the morning, get me on the horn with Katz. I have a job for him. Don’t lose eyes on this </span>
  <em>
    <span>kadokhes.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*Dave has entered the chat*</p><p>Thank you so much for reading &lt;3 Next chapter's title is from "Something's Coming" from West Side Story</p><p>Author's Note:</p><ul>
<li>Kadokhes: yiddish, used to describe a worthless person</li>
<li>PSA that Dave is varying practice in his faith, so he's not gonna follow all the religious rules! He's not 100% either way. And also he's gonna speak a little bit of both yiddish and hebrew because of his upbringing. Thank you!</li>
<li>(Also I'm a goy so please forgive some mistakes. I'm doing my best here fjdskljf)</li>
<li>I forgot to note this in the previous chapter, so I'll put it here. Edward was actually named after Mr Rochester from <i>Jane Eyre</i> and then <i>Wide Sargasso Sea</i>. Yes, I have unending hate for his man, enough so that I decided to name arguably one of the most despicable characters in this fic after him. If y'all want to yell about how horrible of a man he is, feel free to pop into <a href="https://dyll-pickless.tumblr.com/">my tumblr</a> and yell about him with me.</li>
<li>Yes Jay is a babey and yes I love him with all of my heart, thank you for asking</li>
</ul>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Bright as a Rose</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title of this chapter is from "Something's Coming," from West Side Story!</p><p>Thank you so much to everybody who has been leaving comments! Y'all are truly giving me life here</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dave was in a strangely good mood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t supposed to be—not by a long shot. He should be in a horrible mood. A scared-for-his-life mood. The kind of mood that comes when you piss off the leader of a very big, very powerful crime family, who happened to hold your entire life in his dinner plate sized hands. And yet he just couldn’t shake the feeling that something good was going to happen that day. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Something’s coming,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought to himself with a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breakfast was a cranberry muffin and a warm cup of mocha, Dave’s favorite—a treat compared to the usual. He muttered soft brachot under his breath and suppressed a smile as he sat at the breakfast bar, looking out at his view of the city. Music quietly played from speakers, only adding to the peace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is, until his phone started buzzing. Dave’s hand absently landed on the phone next to his plate. It wasn’t vibrating. He sighed, stood up, and walked over to a drawer on the kitchen side of the island. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Putting your phone in a drawer won’t stop this from happening,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he remembered telling himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, well it was nice while it lasted,</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the curt retort before he pulled open the drawer and lifted the correct phone to his ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have a job. Meet us in 30.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave hung up without responding, as was customary. With a slight frown, he set the second phone on the counter. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, something’s coming alright. Idiot.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dave shook his head and went upstairs to get ready for the day.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Dave was no stranger to guns. His father put Dave’s first gun in his hands on his seventh birthday. By the following half birthday, his fear of guns had been trained out of him. When he was 15, he was able to field strip and reassemble a 1911 pistol in under 22 seconds, faster than most of his uncles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, though, whenever he was packing heat, he didn’t let himself become complacent. His Colt, which was tucked into his waistband with the safety </span>
  <em>
    <span>on</span>
  </em>
  <span>, wasn’t something that ever truly slipped his mind, even if it was part of his routine. It pressed into his back when he got into his car and didn’t let up the entire drive—even through all of the precautionary extra turns he took.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The presence was comforting any time he had to interact with his family, but especially when he had to meet with Damien. The man was terrifying. He controlled the lives of everybody, and he loved flaunting it. Just hearing his voice from down the hall sent a shiver down Dave’s spine. He took a deep breath, straightened up, and pushed past the anxiety. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Katz! How good it is to finally see you again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave swallowed and then smiled, his lips still pressed together. “It’s good to see you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long has it been since we last talked face to face like this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two weeks ago,” he responded without hesitation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damien grinned. “Ah, yes, Farmer. You know, I appreciate the work you did with that one. Always very clean. I respect cleanliness. And order.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave nodded and resisted every urge he had to rock back onto his heels. It was always like this with Damien: he knew he could go on for hours, and nobody would stop him. All anybody could do was nod and wait for him to get to the point. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what I don’t like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that?” Dave’s eyes scanned the room. Sebastian, Damien’s assistant, was the only one who was missing. He silently sighed through his nose. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit. He was nice.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“When people don’t do what I tell them,” Damien said, his tone too light for the implication of his words. “But, luckily, I have guys like you who can go fix that for me, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great. Follow me. I need to show you something.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Damien parked the car on the side of the road and made no move to get out, so Dave didn’t either. It took him a few minutes to realize why they were there. When he did, his lips twitched into a frown for a moment. There were two people in the alley that branched off the road they were idling on. </span>
  <em>
    <span>One of them must be the target, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dave thought, clenching his jaw.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sat in silence and just watched. There was a scrawny black person who Dave would be worried was freezing in his torn crop top and shorts if not for the oversized fur coat that looked like it used to be white. He had his arms spread wide as he pranced around the alley, talking to somebody who was sitting down, just out of Dave’s view. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fur Coat must have said something to get the other fired up because suddenly he jumped onto his (bare?) feet. For a moment, it looked like they were about to fight, but at the last moment the second person’s face broke into a grin and he pulled the first into a hug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they parted, Dave could get a better look at the second person. He seemed to be covered—just about head to toe—in dark tattoos over his pale skin, but they were too far away for Dave to make out what they could possibly be of. Tattoos spun in a circle, and for a moment Dave thought he had tripped, but instead he suddenly jumped. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Is he dancing?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Damien scoffed, almost making Dave jump. “Look at that disgusting display.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes sir,” Dave replied, trying to make his tone flat and as not-appreciative as he could. He wasn’t feeling anything positive towards either person they were watching—especially not Tattoos. Dave certainly wasn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>slightly</span>
  </em>
  <span> intrigued by Tattoos’ movements, and how he seemed to float across the asphalt. Absolutely not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The one without shoes,” Damien continued like Dave hadn’t spoken at all. “He’s your target.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave’s gaze flickered to Damien in shock, but he didn’t open his mouth to say anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He should be giving money to the Family since he whores himself out on our turf, but he isn’t. So, I need you to make him an offer he can’t refuse: join the Family or die. Can you do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave set his jaw, looking at his new target. “Yes sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come back to this location at midnight. I have people making sure he’ll be here alone. When you meet up, take him back to your penthouse, then tell him about our little deal. Got it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave nodded. “No problem.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>No problem at all.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Darkness had fallen hours before, and yet the city was still wide awake. Dave had spent the rest of the day preparing: cleaning the penthouse, double-checking that all of his weapons were hidden but still easily accessible, and sleeping for a few hours. As soon as the stars were out, Dave was in his garage, tucking whatever supplies he may need in case the target put up a struggle into the trunk. At precisely 23:55, he silently started his engine, his mind only on the task he was about to carry out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damien was right. At midnight, Tattoos was alone in the alley, smoking a joint. Dave brushed his finger over the safety of the gun tucked into his waistband to triple-check that it was on, patted the knife in his pocket, cleared his throat, and got out of the car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The flash of movement of the car door opening caught Tattoos’ eye. Dave watched as he quickly looked back forward, took a deep drag off the joint, and eventually hopped off the ledge of the dumpster he was sitting on. By the time Dave had made his way to him, Tattoos’ head was tilted and he was smiling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, mister,” he purred. “Haven’t seen you around here before. Looking for something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave pushed one hand through his hair and gave Tattoos a smile. He took his time to let his eyes drag across Tattoos’ skin, keeping that lopsided smirk on his lips. Tattoos smiled back coyly, clearly reveling in the attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Dave hadn’t been practicing hiding his reactions his whole life, he would have immediately recoiled the second Tattoos stepped into the light. He looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>rough.</span>
  </em>
  <span> What Dave thought were swirling tattoos decorating his skin were actually cuts and bruises and burns. There were only a handful of actual tattoos on his body: words tattooed onto his palms and a symbol on his forearm that Dave didn’t get a good enough look at before it was pulled out of sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like what you see?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That snapped Dave out of it. He cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice rough, “I like it a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot.</span>
  </em>
  <span> How’d you get all of these marks?” He reached out, and when Tattoos didn’t pull away, he let his fingers lightly trail over a set of bruises around his wrist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tattoos shivered, and Dave didn’t think it was solely because of the cold. “Mostly from my clients,” he breathed. “I tell them they can mark me up for a little extra. Most of them do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave licked his lips to hide the grimace that would have appeared. Any flicker of anger or sadness or sympathy was immediately snuffed out. He had a job to do. Feeling things for the target—even small frustrations at blatant injustices—wasn’t on the table. Never has been and never will be. “How much extra?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Depends on what you’re into. We can talk about cost after, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tattoos’ smile grew as Dave’s fingers trailed up his arm. It came to a stop with his thumb resting against Tattoos’ lip, ever so gently brushing against a cut there. Tattoos leaned against his palm ever so slightly. “Sounds good to me,” Dave finally said, his voice deep and raspy without him even needing to push it down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where do you live?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just about five minutes away. One of those penthouses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great.” He stepped away and grabbed a patchwork coat, which had been draped over the edge of the dumpster he had been perched on. “Let’s go, then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They kept talking in the car ride, Dave trying his best to know just enough about Tattoos to make his death as plausible as possible—which wasn’t going to be much of a challenge, by the looks of it. It was like he had no sense of self-preservation at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can call me Klaus, by the way,” Tattoos said, looking away from the window and at Dave, not knowing that there was a rifle under the seat he was sitting on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Klaus,” Dave repeated, not pulling his gaze from the road. “I’m Dave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that’s a good name. ‘Dave.’ It fits you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave didn’t think about the way his name sounded on Klaus’ tongue. He just pressed his foot a little harder on the gas and chewed on the inside of his cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they pulled into the garage, Dave could hear a very quiet gasp escape Klaus’ mouth. He couldn’t blame him, when Dave first saw the place he had a very similar reaction. </span>
  <em>
    <span>For a very different reason, though,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dave reminded himself as he switched the engine off. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Klaus only likes it because he thinks it means he’ll get more money. Nothing else.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Something about that thought didn’t sit right in his mind, but he opened the car door and got out before he could think on it further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hooked his arm around Klaus’ waist as they stepped into the lobby. The security guard shot him a cocky smirk as he let them through to the elevator, and Dave forced himself to return it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as the elevator doors slid shut, Klaus turned in Dave’s arms and pushed forward into a kiss. Dave’s back thudded against the cold metal wall and he didn’t indicate his surprise. In fact, his recovery was spotless—he even pushed a hand into Klaus’ short hair and tugged lightly. Dave wasn’t sure what emotion was evoked when Klaus made a soft noise into his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doors opened and they moved into the penthouse, Klaus a mess of grabbing hands and biting kisses, and Dave’s mind a million miles away. As much as he wanted this (he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>slept</span>
  </em>
  <span> with somebody), there was no way he was going to actually follow through with having sex with Klaus, especially not ten minutes after they’d first met. Still, though, Dave couldn’t see a way to back out of this without raising Klaus’ suspicions. So, he kissed back. And that was the only reason why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, suddenly, by some miracle, Dave’s phone started buzzing. Not the flip phone in his back pocket, but his actual personal phone in his jacket pocket. Dave broke away from the kiss and held up the electronic blessing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to take this,” he explained breathlessly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus stepped back and nodded. Dave shot him a smile before taking the phone into the laundry room and shutting the door. He glanced down at the screen, then answered it. “Hello?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, we have been trying to reach you. This call is officially a—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave scoffed and rolled his eyes. Of course he got his hide saved by a scam call. He glanced at the closed door. Klaus was on the other side, waiting. Dave needed to make this believable, so he went with something he knew well: a babysitter calling to ask for help with his </span>
  <em>
    <span>plimenik</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Hey, Mrs. Johnson! What are you doing up so late tonight? Shouldn’t the kids be in bed by now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—reason for this call is to inform you that IRS is filing a lawsuit—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Try and see if Jacob’s lion is between his bed and the wall. The one I gave him, yeah. That’ll help him fall asleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“—about this case file, please call immediately on our department number—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, good. Tell him goodnight for me. Yep. Great. Thank you so much. </span>
  <em>
    <span>A gute nakht.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dave hung the phone call and let out a long, slow breath and silently prayed that it was believable. He waited another second before opening the door and stepping back into the kitchen, where they were before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There, he was greeted with the sight of a half-naked Klaus, his hair still tousled and his lips still slightly swollen from the kiss before. Dave breathed through his nose and made a point to not look at his bare torso. As soon as Klaus saw Dave, he smiled and sauntered back over to him, one hand sliding over his shoulder and the other reaching for a lower destination.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave was able to pull away at the last second, not acknowledging Klaus’ comment calling him handsome. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Dave said, standing with about a foot between them. “That call was from my sister’s nanny, and… I don’t know. I’m just not in the mood anymore.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus’ face fell. He backed up, not keeping his eyes off Dave, and bent down to grab his discarded crop top. “Oh,” he said softly. “I can leave, sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? No, no, you don’t have to,” Dave urgently said, stepping forward, but immediately stopping when Klaus took another step back so as to not let him get any closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A look of confusion clouded Klaus’ face. “Why…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave sighed and held his hands up. “Listen, I’ll still pay you for tonight. In fact, I’ll pay you double what you would have gotten, alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That confusion turned to distrust. Klaus looked at the door, which was behind Dave. “What do you want with me?” He asked, trying to sound threatening to the hitman and failing miserably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh—? Nothing! I just want to make sure you’re safe!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave threw his hands up into the air. “Does there need to be a reason?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nobody’s just kind for no reason!” Klaus argued, slightly shaking with anger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of the fight left Dave’s body and he deflated. He wanted to take out a notepad and take down the full names, addresses, and personal phone numbers of each and every person who made Klaus think that was true. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus scoffed at Dave’s silence. “Look, asshole, I don’t know what you’re trying to get out of me, but I’m not having it. You’re not going to murder me, or whatever. I’m leaving.” He grabbed his things and marched past Dave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave didn’t even make a move to stop him. He just turned to watch. “Klaus,” he called as soon as Klaus was halfway to the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By some miracle, he stopped. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave sighed. “At least let me make you some food before you go.” At Klaus’ questioning, distrustful look, he continued. “Look, I don’t mean any offense by this, but you look like you haven’t eaten a good meal in a while, and I don’t know who wouldn’t want to spend a few more minutes in a heated building before having to go back out there, especially when you aren’t wearing any shoes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus’ steady gaze shifted to look around the penthouse. “Alright,” he said eventually, everything about him screaming caution. “But nothing fancy. Like, pizza rolls or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A soft smile tugged at the corners of Dave’s lips. “How does frozen cheese pizza sound?”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Once the pizza was in the oven, Dave made it a point to stay behind the island and let Klaus roam around the living room, looking at everything with hidden interest. Dave, of course, knew where all of the weapons were and that Klaus wouldn’t find a single one of them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Besides,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the hitman side of him rationalized, </span>
  <em>
    <span>this is encouraging him to let his guard down.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Something about that didn’t sit right in his stomach, but he didn’t want to give any thought to it to figure out what. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus was inspecting the houseplant that sat by one the wall of giant windows when he called back to Dave: “Hey, so, what music do you listen to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave was grateful for the talking point. “Well,” he started, laughing slightly in a touch of embarrassment, “it’s probably not anything you listen to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?” Klaus straightened up and looked at him, his beautiful green eyes sparkling in hesitant amusement. “What music don’t I listen to, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus’ gaze shouldn’t have so much of an effect on Dave, especially not when from across what was technically two rooms. And yet, Dave’s heart was skipping beat after beat. “Er, well, my favorite band is the Doors. I like a lot of other bands from around that time too.” Dave couldn’t help but mirror Klaus’ growing grin. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Joke’s on you,” Klaus said, strutting over to the kitchen. He leaned on the island towards Dave and tilted his head slightly. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> the Doors.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Dave stepped back until he hit the counter behind him. He couldn’t help but feel like he needed to maintain a certain distance between the two of them, lest he get drawn into Klaus’ magnetism. Not that Klaus was magnetic, or anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t get enough of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like to, er, would you want to listen to them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus’ face broke out into a grin. “Of course I would.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From then until the oven timer went off, they sang along and danced to the songs coming in through the speakers. The entire time, Dave made sure they had the island between them. Though he knew he was gaining Klaus’ trust, he didn’t want to push it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>(A small part of him wondered if that was the true reason why he was keeping so much space between him and Klaus. He refused to come up with alternatives. He didn’t want to think about the gun he had strapped under the counter. He didn’t let himself acknowledge how easy it would be to pull it out right then, pull the trigger, and end the job. He wasn’t going to think about how easy it was to betray Klaus like that, or how dangerous he was. He couldn’t.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as the pizza was out cooling on the stove, Dave was batting Klaus’ hands away. “Klaus, that’s 420 degrees. You can’t just touch it.” Klaus pulled his hands away with a slight pout, which Dave had to consciously make an effort to hold firm. “Would you like a glass of water?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus tilted his head. “Got anything stronger?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave nodded and filled up two glasses of ice cold water and set them out on the island. The moment Dave said the pizza was cooled enough, Klaus grabbed a slice and started eating with no signs of stopping or slowing down. As soon as he was done with one slice, he just put another on his plate. Dave didn’t even move to get a slice for himself—he wasn’t that hungry in the first place. He just sipped his water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Klaus?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hummed through his seventh pizza slice. Once he swallowed, he tried again. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to answer this, but when was the last time you’ve eaten a proper, full meal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus slowly set his slice of pizza down and sat up straighter. After a moment of collecting himself, his gaze fell away from Dave and he mumbled, “Five days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Five d—”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He stopped and breathed in through his nose, willing himself to not freak out over that. “Alright, well, you can eat as much of this as you’d like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took a few seconds for Klaus to speak again. “Thank you,” he said, his voice full of genuine awe at what Dave knew was just pure common decency. “Thank you so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to thank me for this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus hummed. After he finished the last piece, he turned back to Dave. “Hey, so, is that offer from before still on the table?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which offer?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I sleep here, you still pay me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Dave set extra blankets and pillows on the guest bed, showed Klaus how to work the bathtub, and promised him double the amount he would get each night in the morning, right next to a steaming hot plate of breakfast. Dave handed him some of his own clothes to change into and made an offer to wash Klaus’ clothes, which was declined. He didn’t push the subject. Instead, he just nodded, said goodnight, and shut the door behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The entire time Dave changed into pajamas, he felt like his skin was buzzing and tingling. He felt jittery, like he needed ro run a mile and do a million jumping jacks. It wasn’t until he shut off the lights that he was finally faced with what he’d been avoiding all night:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave didn’t carry out the job.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not only did he not carry out the job, but the target was currently taking a bath in his bathtub, a bathtub in a penthouse that was a gift to him from the man who was already pissed with him, and who he just disobeyed. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Why did Dave cave? He’d carried out countless jobs for the Family without even blinking an eye. Why was this the thing that broke him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave stared up at the ceiling, lit only by the city outside. He knew why. Or, at least he thought he did. There was something about that argument they had that snapped something deep inside him. Something about the way Klaus’ big green eyes filled with tears as he shouted at Dave, not trusting him just because he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>kind. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave couldn’t do that. He couldn’t hurt Klaus. He couldn’t drag him into the Family, and he certainly couldn’t kill him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dave sighed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the fuck am I going to do now?</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Gay rights and happy pride month. To quote my wonderful beta reader: this is some deep shit everyone is in,,,, :eyes:</p><p>Thank you so much for reading &lt;3 Next chapter's title is from "Death of Me" by SAINT PHNX</p><p>Author's Note:</p><ul>
<li>Plimenik: yiddish, nephew</li>
<li>A gute nakht: yiddish, goodnight</li>
<li>Brachot are little blessings that a Jewish person says "praising and thanking the Creator" <a href="https://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/90257/jewish/Brachot:-Blessings-for-Food-&amp;-Other-Occasions.htm"></a>
</li>
<li>
<a href="https://www.chabad.org/library/article_cdo/aid/90257/jewish/Brachot:-Blessings-for-Food-&amp;-Other-Occasions.htm">Dave having a cranberry muffin and mocha for breakfast is a nod to one of my favorite tua fics, </a><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/21402892/chapters/50989741">A Day in the Life</a> by princejoopie, in which a hitman also has that for his breakfast! I highly recommend it!</li>
<li>I searched the internet for what temperature a certain kosher frozen pizza would be cooked at (was it research or procrastination? The world may never know) and I found that Tuscanini 4-cheese pizzas are cooked at 420 degrees, and who am I to pass up the opportunity to put 420 in my fic?</li>
<li>I'm so glad everybody loves Jay as much as I do! <a href="https://dyll-pickless.tumblr.com/post/619046619368898560/to-celebrate-chapter-2-going-up-heres-a-picrew-i">Here's a picrew I did of him</a> a while back if anybody wants to see him!</li>
</ul>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Devil's at My Door</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title of this chapter is from "Death of Me" by SAINT PHNX</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Klaus woke up alone in a very large, very comfortable bed, in a state that was very not murdered. This defied all expectations, so he wasn’t going to complain about the fact that he didn’t exactly remember how he’d gotten there in the first place. Really, the only disappointment was that he wasn’t sore. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No sex, no money. Shit.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He slid out of bed and paused for a moment to look down at what he was wearing. The clothes were most definitely not his: the lounge pants were tied tight around his waist to keep them from slipping off, and the shirt hung off his wiry frame like a dress, and more importantly they were absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> his style. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. Wait.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It hit him like a bag of bricks over the head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Shit!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus immediately dove to the end of the bed and lifted up the mattress. His body stilled, holding all of the tension for just a moment, before it snapped with a quick sigh of relief. The papers were still there, slightly crinkled brom being hidden under a mattress and then slept on, but intact.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A quick glance at the door and Klaus discovered a lock, which he quickly made use of. He didn’t know much about his host, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t take too kindly to a junkie looking through papers about some mob hits. After checking and double-checking that the lock did indeed work, Klaus took a deep breath and set the two packets out on the ground, Brooke’s beside Ben’s.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At first, he almost couldn’t look at either head-on. His stomach flipped and turned, and the food he’d eaten the night before began to threaten to make an escape. He pressed his hand to his mouth and took a few seconds, turning his head to look out at the beautiful view of the city through the large windows. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>For Ben,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he reminded himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a nod, he returned his gaze to the gruesome scenes. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was looking for, and every so often the sea of red would lose its beginning and its ending, and Klaus would have to look out to the city to fix it. After a few minutes without finding anything, he reached out and gently turned the pages.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brooke’s didn’t hold many surprises. He’d already glanced at her second page in the house. It was all information on her, with that one letter in the corner: D. No matter how much Klaus read and reread the page, there wasn’t any indicator of what it stood for. Frustrated, he turned to Ben’s. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ben Hargreeves, age 26, investigative journalist for The Daily Inquiry.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And in the corner, there was a letter. Not D, but A. Klaus frowned. Before he could start truly thinking about it, though, there was a knock at the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just a minute!” Klaus yelped, half surprised that anything came out at all, since his heart had leapt so far up his throat. He scrambled to get the papers back in order, shoved them into their envelope, and then hid them under the mattress. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s alright,” Dave said on the other side. “I just wanted to ask you how you wanted your eggs. I can do them almost any way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus paused, the mattress still held up by his hand. “Oh,” he said, frowning for a moment. “Uh…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now, that was a question Klaus had never been asked seriously. Sure, there was the classic pickup line that had sometimes been thrown his way as a warning before a suffocating, bitter kiss, but it was never asked in earnest. Even as a kid, he never had a say in how his food was made. It was just placed in front of him, and he had to eat it. That was that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I’ll have them however you’re having them, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright!” Klaus could almost hear the soft smile through the door. It made him feel weird. “They’ll be ready in a few minutes, if you want to come down before they’re cold.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be right there,” Klaus said, slowly lowering the mattress as he frowned at the door. Something was off. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>As promised, the penthouse was filled with the smell of a nice, warm breakfast in a matter of minutes. Klaus threw on a sweatshirt he’d been given the night before, popped a pill </span>
  <em>
    <span>(I’m going to need to get more soon,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he noted), and made his way down the steps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good morning,” Dave greeted with a smile as he put two fried eggs onto a plate. “You’re just in time—I was about to go upstairs and tell you everything was ready.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus looked at the two plates of food with wide eyes as he slid into the seat he’d sat in the day before. There was a thick envelope, presumably with money, but Klaus didn’t touch it yet. “I could smell it,” he said softly. He placed his hands in his lap as Dave put one plate in front of him and the other to Klaus’ right, not sure what else to do with his hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What would you like to drink? Coffee, juice, water?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um…” Coffee sounded amazing, and juice sounded almost as good, but he had no way to prove that neither had been tampered with. “Tap water, please,” he said, throwing a sad glance at the warm coffee pot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Dave noticed the look, he didn’t say anything as he turned on the tap and filled up a cup once it was cold enough. “Here you go,” he murmured and handed him the glass.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus didn’t wait for Dave to sit down. As soon as the food was in front of him, he picked up a fork and started eating. Dave sat down in his own seat, muttered something under his breath, and then took a sip of his coffee.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Klaus asked lightly, trying not to show that he was still internally freaking out a bit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’d you just say?” Klaus did his best to not sound rude. The last thing he wanted to do was piss off the man who had all of the power in the situation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” A look that could have been likened to soft embarrassment passed over Dave’s face. “Brachot.” At Klaus’ head tilt, he moved to explain. “It’s like giving thanks for the meal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, cool.” Klaus fell silent, not sure where to go from there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a few moments, Dave cleared his throat. “How did you sleep last night? Did you have enough blankets?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus nodded. “Yep! I can’t remember the last time I’ve slept in a bed that comfortable.” He looked up from his plate, meaning to bring up the money he’d been promised the night before, but the words quickly left his mind when he got a good, proper look at Dave. He looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>tired,</span>
  </em>
  <span> like he didn’t get an ounce of sleep the night before. Before he could ask him about it, Dave spoke up again:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen, I have something to tell you. I didn’t actually approach you last night looking for sex.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus could feel the blood run from his face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t get to the exit without passing him, shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Frantically, he began to look around the penthouse. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s going to kill me. Oh god. Fuck, he’s—</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re in danger.” There was a pause, presumably where Dave expected Klaus to respond, but Klaus was too busy waiting for his brain to catch up to be able to form words, so Dave just continued. “You see, I’m an undercover cop.” He placed a badge on the counter and slid it over to Klaus to look at. “There are some dangerous people after you, so you’re going to have to stay with me for a while, until everything gets worked out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Klaus squeaked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave tilted his head and raised his eyebrows in a comforting look. “I’m not sure how much more I’m allowed to tell you, but I will be paying you for each day you’re here, if that is any comfort.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus ran a shaky hand through his hair. “I need to… I need a moment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The moment Klaus was in the guest room, he hugged his arms tight around himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Holy shit,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s Damien. It’s fucking Damien. Diego was right. I’m gonna get fucking murdered, just like Ben, and it’s going to look like a suicide, and then there’s going to be a little packet for me too. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glanced at his mattress. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What if I end up like Brooke?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He shook his head quickly, running his hands through his hair over and over like that would push everything away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The police will help this time,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought to himself. He was safe. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Right?</span>
  </em>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>Dave hated lying. Ever since he was a little kid, he always hated lying, even when it was to save his own skin, or his siblings’ skins. It always made him feel horrible, like his stomach was twisting itself into knots. Somehow lying to Klaus made it all worse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even before Klaus’ face filled with horror, Dave wanted to call the lie off. He wanted to leave his fake badge in his pocket and let Klaus go on his merry way, cash in his hand and food in his belly. But he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. Because since Klaus wasn’t a part of the Family, that meant he was dead. And a dead man can’t wander the streets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He spent all night thinking it over. There were two options. On one hand, he could tell Klaus the truth, make him freak out, and have to kill him—which was exactly what he was trying to avoid. On the other hand, he could come up with a lie and bide his time until he has a way to get Klaus out of the city and to somewhere safe, somewhere where Damien wouldn’t think to look for him. With a fake police badge sitting in his nightstand drawer leftover from a previous “job” (trying to scare a journalist, technically off the record, he didn’t want to think about it), it wasn’t hard to come up with a lie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That, of course, didn’t make the actual act of lying any easier. It didn’t make seeing how Klaus—skinny, fragile, wary Klaus—was instantly filled with terror any easier. It didn’t make any of it any easier. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a few minutes, Dave got up and followed after Klaus, envelope of money in his hand. The sound of Klaus crying in the guest room nearly tore his heart out (a sensation Dave didn’t have the time to properly analyze, so he just pushed it to the side). He raised a hand and gently knocked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Klaus?” He spoke softly and kept his voice steady. “How are you doing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a wet laugh on the other side. “How do you think?” he asked with a sniff. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave winced. “Stupid question. Sorry.” He waited for a few seconds without a response. “Could I come in?” There was a beat of silence, so Dave added, “You forgot your money.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.” There were sounds of shuffling, and then a soft click, and then the door came open. Klaus looked horrible—somehow he looked even smaller in Dave’s clothes than before, eyeliner ran down his cheeks, and he was trembling slightly. Dave had to suppress his gut instinct to pull him into a giant hug. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he said, frowning slightly as he still stood in the doorway. “I probably could have found a much better way to tell you this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is there an easy way to tell somebody that a person wants them dead?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave hummed, glad there was even so much as a ghost of a smile on Klaus’ lips. “I guess not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus moved to sit on his bed, leaving the door open so Dave could follow. He sat near the pillow so Dave could sit next to him, but Dave opted to sit on the floor instead. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Space,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he figured, </span>
  <em>
    <span>is probably something Klaus needs right about now.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have some questions,” Klaus stated, wiping his hands under his eyes to try and get rid of some of the eyeliner.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go right ahead.” Dave set the envelope on the nightstand next to the bed, then folded his hands in his lap to show that he was listening.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were a few beats in the conversation before Klaus spoke up again, his eyes hooked on the money. There was a lot of it, but there were more important things at hand. “What’s going to happen, exactly?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave nodded. “Well, you will need to stay here for a bit, until we can find you a different place to stay. Somewhere safe, where these people won’t be looking for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” Klaus blinked quickly and swallowed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can go and get anything you need me to get. Like, if you left something somewhere, I can go out and get it for you. You’ll just have to tell me where it is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus looked like he had something in mind, but he shook his head. “I don’t have anything like that. All of my stuff is right here.” He glanced at his jacket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean…” Klaus trailed off and his eyes flicked back to Dave. “You’re a cop, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then yep, that’s it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave started chewing on his lower lip and drummed his fingers against his leg. “If it’s something illegal, don’t worry about me ratting you out. You’re under my protection, and it would be pretty stupid to throw you in jail. As long as it isn’t anything too bad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hypothetically speaking,” Klaus said slowly, “are drugs too bad?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave could feel his heart fall in his chest. It shouldn’t cause him as much pain as it did to hear it be confirmed that Klaus had a drug habit. “No,” he said eventually. “But I can’t let anything worse than weed into the penthouse.” There wasn’t any way Dave could get his hands on hard drugs without attracting suspicion from the Family, Dave rationalized to himself. That was why he said that. No other reason.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, so what are you saying?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you need to detox, I can help you, but—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>forcing</span>
  </em>
  <span> me to get clean?” Klaus asked incredulously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave shook his head mutely. His tongue was in a knot, his heart was pounding. That was exactly what he was doing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know what, I think I would like to just take my chances!” Klaus got up and swiftly grabbed his coat on his way to the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave sighed, somehow managing to hide the flare-up of panic that overtook him when those words left his mouth. If Damien discovered that Klaus was alive, then Klaus wouldn’t be the only one that would be killed on spot. “If you leave, we can’t give you any more protection,” he blurted out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was like a tub of ice water was poured over Klaus’ head and he was left desperately gasping for breath. “Huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you leave this penthouse,” Dave said slowly, calmly, “then you’ll be out of our hands. If those people find you, we can’t do anything to save you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you’re telling me it’s drugs or my life?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave tossed his head side to side and shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus let out a high-pitched laugh that was more out of mania than humor. “Of course,” he said dryly. “Of course a cop would say that. You’re just like my fucking f—” He paused. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t mention him,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he scolded himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nevermind.” Klaus took a deep breath and tugged at his hair. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stay in the penthouse with whatever is left of my pills, or go out and get drugs, and probably get killed while I’m at it. </span>
  </em>
  <span>On any normal day, Klaus would have risked it and hoped he would have survived—anything for the drugs—but it wasn’t a normal day. No, Klaus was closer than ever before to discovering the truth behind Ben’s death, and proving everybody else wrong. He wasn’t going to just throw that way for some pills that Ben hated to begin with.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, fine. Fine, I’ll do it. Just don’t fucking throw me out, or whatever.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For once, Klaus had something to live for: Ben. And he was going to take whatever chance he had to make sure he made his brother proud.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for reading &lt;3 Next chapter's title is from "The Girl With X-Ray Eyes" by Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds</p>
<p>Author's Note</p>
<ul>
<li>I'm getting my wisdom teeth out this Thursday (June 11, 2020) and though I don't expect this to affect my upload schedule, there is a small chance that it will. If it does, I will do my best to get it up on the following Monday, Tuesday, etc.</li>
<li>I know I gave info on brachot last chapter, but <a href="https://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/brachot-blessings-before-eating">here's another link</a> in case you're Extra Curious. Thank you to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/aelisheva/pseuds/aelisheva">Aelisheva</a> and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmAndFandems/pseuds/EmAndFandems">EmAndFandems</a> for helping me out and not getting annoyed by all of my questions about Judaism! I'm so indebted to you both
</li>
</ul>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. So She Took Me by the Hand</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Quick warning for those who may have emetophobia: there are very quick mentions of throwing up in this chapter! Proceed with caution y'all ily take care of yourselves</p>
<p>The title of this chapter is from "The Girl With X-Ray Eyes" by Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Klaus spent the rest of the day sitting on the balcony outside his room. It was a very nice one: the barrier on the edge was glass and it wrapped all the way around the penthouse. He could sit cross legged and still see out to the city below—the city he wouldn’t be able to explore for who knows how long. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite the cop’s reassurances, Klaus was still worried about his weed supply, so he rolled a blunt so skinny it was probably more paper than weed, and blew the smoke out towards the skyscrapers. The sun had begun to set and Klaus’ eyes were glued to the orange light dancing off the glass of the windows and the water further out. It was beautiful. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A door softly clicked shut to Klaus’ distant left, around the corner. A few seconds later, Dave walked around, and shot him a gentle smile. “Enjoying the view?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus’ eyes quickly snapped back to the sunset and he took a drag off the joint as he hummed his assent. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave followed his gaze out towards the city and sat down, leaving a few feet between him and Klaus. “I always watch the sunset,” he said. “It’s really beautiful, especially from here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is,” Klaus whispered, smoke curling up around his lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you been out here all day?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded in response. “It’s nice up here. I like watching the people walk around.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave looked at him for a moment. He wanted to ask so many questions—</span>
  <em>
    <span>How are you doing? Are you cold?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Instead, he just smiled a little. “Yeah. When I was little, sometimes my family would go on trips to the city, and my mom and I would play this game in the hotel where we would make up little stories for the people down below.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus looked over at him with a small smile. “Were you any good?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, the best,” Dave replied, jokingly puffing out his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus stopped his smile from growing by bringing the joint back up to his lips. “Prove it. Pick somebody and tell me about them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Immediately, a slight blush crept up the back of Dave’s neck and settled right at the tips of his ears. He hesitantly looked down at the street below, searching until his eyes landed on someone. “Him,” he stated, pointing at a man in a long brown trench coat, with a grey scarf and a black briefcase. Klaus hummed his approval and motioned for Dave to go on. “He’s on his way to meet his secret lover,” he started, and Klaus’ attention was immediately pointed solely at Dave. “He’s been married to his wife of ten years, but he never loved her. But one day he fell in love with his receptionist, Steven.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ooh, progressive,” Klaus purred.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave cleared his throat, feeling the weight of Klaus’ piercing green eyes on him. “They meet up every week, he tells his wife he’s in a book club.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave couldn’t help but smile at Klaus’ laugh. It was beautiful, and Dave decided he wanted to hear it again as soon as possible. He quickly cleared his throat. It was bad enough that he didn’t finish the job—he needed to remain as distant as he could until he could get Klaus to a better place. “Do, uh, do you think you could do any better?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus leaned closer to the edge and pressed his forehead against the glass. He stayed there for a few moments—the only times when he moved were when he brought his blunt up to his mouth—until he sat back up with a confident smile. “See her?” He pointed at a woman in an oversized fur coat walking an undersized poodle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She runs a popular drug ring centered a few blocks east of here. By day, she teaches old ladies how to knit at the local nursing home, and by night she’s giving rebellious, rich teens the highs of their lives.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep,” Klaus nodded seriously, then continued, “and don’t even get me started on her dog.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please tell me more.” Dave rested his chin on his hand and leaned towards Klaus.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus leaned in too and lowered his voice to a grave whisper. “Secretly a doberman.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave could barely hide his sharp laugh as he pulled back in surprise. Klaus giggled as well, watching him. “What?” Klaus asked faux-defensively. “I’m just telling the truth, don’t shoot the messenger.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, you win.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who said I was still playing?” Klaus arched an eyebrow. “I know a lot of things about a lot of people. You’d be surprised about the secret goings on of civilized people. But!” He held up a finger in Dave’s face. “I also could be playing, so you’re not allowed to go investigate our little heroine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you just make a pun?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus snorted. “Yes I did, thank you for appreciating it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave looked back out to the city sky. As they were talking, the sun had retreated behind the skyline, and the sky took on a muted grey color. The two of them fell into comfortable silence, both looking at the sky and getting lost in their own thoughts. At one point, Klaus finished his joint and snuffed out the roach before placing it in his jacket pocket. They stayed there in comfortable silence until Klaus started shivering and muttering something about it being windier up high. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We should probably head in,” Dave said, looking at Klaus with slight concern. “I can give you some more pajamas to sleep in until we can actually buy you clothes.” He ignored Klaus’ look of surprise and continued. “Or I could make you some tea and warm you up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Protests that Klaus had survived worse sat right at the tip of his tongue, yet when he opened his mouth, he found himself agreeing. “That sounds really nice, thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus hung onto Dave all night. He wanted to stretch time as much as he could. He coaxed Dave into a conversation over their cups of tea, and kept making the conversation longer and longer. He commented on how comfortable the pajamas Dave gave him were, how nice the place was, talked about anything that came to mind. If Dave noticed, he didn’t say anything about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And yet, despite all of Klaus’ attempts, time marched on to a steady beat. Soon, Dave could barely suppress his yawns, and Klaus wasn’t far behind. He was tired, but he couldn’t help the little jolt of panic he felt when Dave finally mentioned they go to bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bad idea,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Klaus thought, searching for a way to make the conversation last another fifteen minutes at the very least. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t that he didn’t need the sleep, nor was it that he didn’t enjoy the bed. Sleeping in that guest bedroom was the most comfortable Klaus had been in a while, but that didn’t erase the fact that the next morning was when he was going to start detoxing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave shot him a soft, sleepy smile, and Klaus yawned again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Klaus felt like shit before he even opened his eyes. The light was already too bright, his head already pounded, he already felt way too close to death. </span>
  <em>
    <span>And this was just day one.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a light knock on the door that made Klaus want to curl up into a ball and cry in pain. The noise rattled around his skull, making everything so much worse. He wanted to ask for Dave to be quiet, but even thinking about it was too loud.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Klaus?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He made some strangled sort of noise as a response—less effort than actually opening his mouth and forming the words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I asked if I could come in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Yeah,” he responded, an action that probably took way more effort than it should have.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus could hear him enter the room. He heard the soft, probably sympathetic sigh at the state he was in, and the light click of the door closing. He could imagine Dave pressing his lips together and looking at him pityingly. Klaus wasn’t sure how that made him feel.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Could I sit on the edge of your bed?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instincts screamed </span>
  <em>
    <span>no,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but Klaus found himself nodding his head yes, draping his arm over his eyes to block some of the light coming in through the large windows. The bed sunk under Dave’s weight and Klaus resisted the urge to peek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It started, didn’t it?” Dave asked softly, twisting his hands in his lap and scanning his eyes up and down Klaus’ sweaty skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus nodded and his lip trembled. He didn’t want to do this, he had to do this, he wanted to do this for Ben. He wanted to get his pills already. He couldn’t break so soon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. Well, I’ll be here to help you through it.” Klaus nodded again. He didn’t dare open his mouth—he didn’t trust that it would only be words that came up. “Can you do me a favor and tell me which drugs you were addicted to? Then I can know what symptoms to prepare for.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus would have laughed if he didn’t feel like each breath brought him closer and closer to death. Instead, he made an all-encompassing gesture with his hand. </span>
  <em>
    <span>All of them.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” Dave frowned, and Klaus could imagine him rubbing his brow in thought. “Alright.” He wondered if he was the only one regretting his decision to get clean. “Do you want to be left alone?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus found himself shaking his head, surprising himself more than Dave. Once he thought about it, he realized how it may actually be easier with somebody else there. If he needed anything, he would be able to ask Dave for it, and it would be much easier to stay on track with somebody else keeping an eye on him. Not to mention, despite everything, Dave’s presence was oddly comforting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave smiled. “Okay. Do you want me to be quiet?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded again, hoping Dave didn’t take it personally. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t. He just smiled softly. “I’ll be right back,” Dave told him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he was. In a few minutes, Dave returned with a few books, which he carefully placed on the ground by the bed, and a glass of water for Klaus. With Klaus’ silent permission, he sat on the end of the bed, and began quietly reading the first book.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They remained there for the first few hours of the day, Klaus making soft, vague complaints when something suddenly got worse for no reason, and Dave keeping an eye on him as he read. After what felt like a million years and only a few seconds, Dave gently put his hand on Klaus’ leg. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Klaus,” he said, not whispering, but his voice was still soft. Quiet and deep and rumbly, and it made Klaus feel odd.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s noon, I think you need to get some food in you. You haven’t eaten since last night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus opened his eyes and looked at Dave. For a moment, Dave forgot how to breathe as he looked at Klaus’ big green eyes. He quickly shooed that feeling away, though, and tilted his head slightly. “I know it won’t be fun, but you still need to try, okay?” When Klaus didn’t object, Dave sent him a soft smile. “How does plain toast sound?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The response he got was a weak nod. Dave’s smile grew and he got up. “I’ll be right back. Is there anything else you need?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus shook his head and suddenly there was something against his forehead—specifically the back of Dave’s hand. His stomach flipped and he swallowed as he watched Dave frown slightly. “I’m going to get you some juice, too,” Dave resolved. “I’ll be back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For those few minutes that Klaus was left alone, he mostly spent his time trying to decipher everything that was happening. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d met somebody so kind, so caring and gentle and giving. It made him want to curl up in his bed and be warm, ideally once he stopped feeling like absolute shit. It was nice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave softly knocked before he came in with two water bottles, a plate with two slices of plain toast, a thermometer, and a smile. </span>
  <em>
    <span>A very nice smile,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Klaus noted. He fashioned a weak smile back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few minutes later, Klaus’ back was hunched and his hands were gripping the sides of the porcelain toilet bowl. Dave was sitting behind him, gently rubbing circles on his back as Klaus’ stomach heaved until there was nothing left to come back up, and then it continued for a few more minutes. Once he finally had a break, he collapsed against the wall next to Dave, too weak to hold himself up, and started crying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he whispered, shaking his head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave shook his head. “Don’t apologize. You’re doing so well. You’re so strong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That was not the right thing to say (or, maybe it was exactly what needed to be said) because Klaus just cried harder and leaned against Dave. Dave could feel his heart shatter in his chest, and couldn’t help but feel guilty for being the reason why Klaus was going through this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you hold me?” Klaus asked weakly, his voice so meek that Dave almost missed it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course.” Dave wrapped his arms around Klaus and pulled him close to his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stayed there on the bathroom floor, Klaus quietly sniffling and Dave just holding him close, for quite a while. Klaus dozed off at some point, and Dave couldn’t help but smile. He couldn’t find it in himself to care about how his arm was falling asleep, or how he didn’t exactly have a book to entertain him. He was just happy to stay there and hold Klaus.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That is, until he glanced down at the inside of Klaus’ arm. There sat a tattoo of a symbol that made Dave’s stomach twist: an umbrella within a circle. Dave had seen that before. He tightened his arms around Klaus and pressed his lips together. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Two days later, Klaus croaked out a soft request: for Dave to read aloud to him. He cited that it was getting boring just laying there, the monotony only being periodically broken up by trips to the bathroom. He said that—as long as Dave kept his voice soft, of course—he wouldn’t exactly object to Dave reading aloud. Dave smiled, crossed his legs, and grabbed a well-worn but clearly loved book from his stack, and started reading:</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky, seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus closed his eyes and settled his head back against the pillow. He was sweaty, smelly, his mouth was dry, he felt jittery and exhausted and like he had just ran a million miles, and yet as Dave’s warm voice gently washed over him, everything started to melt away. Of course, Dave’s voice wasn’t a cure, but it was just about as good as a cold compress and what he could imagine a peaceful night’s sleep felt like.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It became a daily ritual: Dave would read a bit, take a break to get food or water or help Klaus to the bathroom to throw up a little, read a little more, take a break, rinse, repeat. Dave made sure to keep his voice quiet and peaceful so as to not disturb Klaus.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Each day, Klaus seemed to get better and better. He was able to keep more food down longer, was steadier on his feet, and stopped sweating as much. By the weekend, he was able to take a shower as Dave stripped the bed and washed it. He was putting a fresh set back onto the bed when Klaus walked in, short hair swept up into a towel, and only a fuzzy robe to cover himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave immediately cleared his throat and turned away, his face flushing a deep red. “Uh, how are you feeling?” He asked, looking up at the ceiling and running a hand through his hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Better,” Klaus hummed, seemingly unaware of the effect he had on Dave as he puttered around the room, picking up random articles of Dave’s clothing to wear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dave’s clothing. Shit, Klaus didn’t have clothes of his own other than what he showed up in.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good, good. Hey, would you like to pick out some clothes so you don’t have to keep wearing mine?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could practically hear the cogs turning in Klaus’ head. “Sure, as long as I get to keep </span>
  <em>
    <span>some</span>
  </em>
  <span> stuff.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was impossible for Dave to blush any redder, he was sure of it. “Yeah, of course, if you want.” He peeked over his shoulder to see a fully dressed Klaus (wearing baggy lounge pants and a too-big shirt and </span>
  <em>
    <span>oy vey,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he was going to be the death of him. Klaus shot him a big smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel like you’d be fun to shop with, even if you are a cop.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave was able to recover from his momentary confusion at being called a cop. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh yeah.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Oh, uh, thank you. But we won’t be able to go out in public, remember? It’ll all have to be online.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus frowned and sat on his bed, a little out of breath from all the sudden exercise after over a week of basically just being in bed. “Oh,” he said, sounding a little dejected.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave chewed on his lip and sat next to Klaus. “I’m sorry,” he said, truly meaning it. “I wish we could go out, but I just… I can’t risk your safety. “ </span>
  <em>
    <span>Or mine. If they find out you’re not dead, it would be my head, too.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” Klaus started, suddenly brightened up, “good thing I know my measurements!”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Guys, they are <i>gay</i> and <i>soft</i> and <i>tender</i> and I love them so much</p>
<p>Thank you all so much for reading! Next chapter's title is from "Fly Me to the Moon" by Frank Sinatra. Feedback is much appreciated!</p>
<p>Author's Note:</p>
<ul>
<li>I strongly headcanon that Dave was really into reading Lord of the Rings (I swear I'll get into this in more detail some day) so I had no choice <i>but</i> to include that in this au!</li>
<li>For anybody curious, the wisdom teeth removal went well! I'm having a quick recovery and feeling much better. Thank you to everybody for sending their well-wishes, and a massive thank you to those who helped watch over me (I'm talking to you especially, Jordan)! I love you guys &lt;3</li>
</ul>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Please Be True</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title of this chapter is from "Fly Me to the Moon" by Frank Sinatra</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Klaus stared up at the ceiling with a slight frown on his face. He’d been deep in thought since he woke up over an hour before, and it was all on one thing: Dave. Or, more specifically, how he felt about Dave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feelings were never an easy thing for Klaus. He knew what it was like to find someone attractive, and that was the closest way he could think of to describe how he felt. But at the same time, there were massive differences. Before, whenever he thought about an attractive person, all he wanted to do was get in bed with them and then go on his merry way. But that wasn’t what it was like with Dave. Sure, he definitely wouldn’t object to getting into bed with Dave </span>
  <em>
    <span>(Obviously</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Klaus thought. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s attractive as fuck.) </span>
  </em>
  <span>but for some reason, thinking about it ending there made his mouth taste sour and his stomach do flips. Things were definitely different, and Klaus was very confused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus’ mouth twisted and he rolled over onto his side, staring at the wall opposite his bed—the wall his room shared with Dave’s. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ben would know what to do. Ben always knew what to do.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He blinked quickly to get rid of the tears in his eyes. There was no use in wishing that Ben would help, he was gone and he wasn’t coming back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wished Ben would tell him what to do, or at the very least, do what he did in Damien’s house and lead him. (That </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ben, Klaus didn’t know how he knew, but he did.) But try as he might, Ben stayed resolutely silent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silent. Dead. Barely a lead to go off of. What lead he did have, he couldn’t tell Diego because he wasn’t allowed out of the penthouse. Because Damien wanted to kill him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was trapped with a cop that was way too attractive to be legal, his brother was killed by the same man who wanted to kill him. He was fucked. Utterly and completely screwed. Klaus didn’t bother to blink away the tears this time. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure how much time went by before there was a knock at the door. He took a moment to wipe away his tears and sniff, his hands fluttering about his face trying to hide any evidence that he had been crying. Once he was satisfied, he brightly called out for Dave to enter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning,” Dave said with a smile as he walked in, laptop in hand. “Ready to go shopping?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Absolutely.” Klaus scooted over to make room for Dave on the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, actually I was thinking we could do it in the living room. You know, just to give us a change of scenery.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus would be lying if he said he didn’t feel disappointed at the fact that he wouldn’t be able to be pressed up against Dave as they looked. “Oh. Right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I made pancakes, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus noticeably brightened at that, and quickly got out of bed. “Well, what are we waiting for, then? Let’s go!”</span>
</p><p><span>Dave laughed and let Klaus race downstairs ahead of him. Part of him wanted to be embarrassed about the pancakes—what kind of person uses chocolate chips to make smiley faces in pancakes to give to the person that they’ve technically kidnapped?—but that immediately disappeared when he heard the delighted noise that came from Klaus. </span><span><br/>
</span> <span>“These are so cute!” Klaus exclaimed with a grin, grabbing three pancakes and stacking them on his own plate. </span></p><p>
  <span>Dave chuckled and set his laptop on the couch before going over to Klaus. “I’m glad you like them,” he said softly, grabbing a pancake of his own and taking a bite out of it. “My mom used to make them like this when I was little. I thought they might cheer you up. Plus, they’re a fantastic celebration of you being able to keep stuff down again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus hummed and nodded, carefully drowning his pancakes in maple syrup. “Well, they smell delicious.” He set the plate down at what was starting to be known as His Spot. Then, he filled up a glass of orange juice and sat down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Truly a breakfast of champions,” Dave teased, sitting down as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Made by the best chef in all of New York,” Klaus added with his mouth full. “Fuck, these are good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Dave said with a sincere smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once Klaus had eaten his fill and Dave had cleaned up, they piled together on the couch. Klaus’ worry about not being able to sit close to Dave was quickly dismissed when Dave’s side pressed up against his and the laptop was put over both their laps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Dave spoke softly, his voice rumbling through his chest and sending shivers down Klaus’ spine, “I think I found some stores you might like. But also don’t be afraid to speak up if you have another idea, or don’t want something, or anything like that. These are </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> clothes. Plus, I’m being paid extra for this job, so don’t worry about cost either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Klaus swallowed thickly. “Wow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there anything you have in mind that you want to look for first?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus frowned. “Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave looked at Klaus’ (very close) face with confusion. “What do you mean ‘really?’”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, like,” Klaus trailed off and gestured. When that didn’t convey what he was trying to say, he tripped and stumbled through putting it into words. “You’re just going to let me choose whatever clothes I want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well yeah, of course,” Dave said carefully. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Clearly something happened in the past about this.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He had to fight to keep the spark of anger at bay. “I told you that you could pick out some clothes. That means </span>
  <em>
    <span>whatever</span>
  </em>
  <span> clothes. If you asked for a skirt, my only question would be what color.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, no. I’d also need your size, and there are a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of different styles of skirts, and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I mean, would you let me buy a skirt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave softened and turned slightly towards Klaus. “Of course I would,” he said, putting as much sincerity as possible into his voice. “Boys—” Klaus minutely shook his head and Dave quickly backtracked. “People can wear skirts if they want. I think you’d look great in a skirt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus would have kissed Dave right then and there if he could. Since he couldn’t, he did the second best thing: he lurched forward and threw his arms around Dave’s neck, pulling him into a tight hug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave made a quiet, surprised noise. As soon as he realized what was happening, he quickly wrapped his arms around Klaus and pulled him into a safe, secure hug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Klaus whispered in his ear. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you for not being like Edward. Thank you for letting me do this. Thank you for not getting mad.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome,” Dave murmured back. He tightened the hug for a moment, savoring the moment, then gently pulled away. “Now, what kind of skirt were you thinking?”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Waiting, Klaus decided, was the worst part of online shopping. After Dave entered in his credit card information, they got the confirmation message saying they would have to wait at least a </span>
  <em>
    <span>week</span>
  </em>
  <span> for the clothes to come in. Klaus was very, very bad at waiting. Dave helped keep him entertained, until one day he couldn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were piled together on the couch under a mountain of blankets, their third bowl of popcorn on Klaus’ lap, when suddenly there came an odd buzzing from the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that?” Klaus asked quietly, taking his head off Dave’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dave knew this would happen. It was bound to happen eventually—he was honestly surprised it hadn’t happened sooner. “I need to get that,” he said, pausing the movie and quickly walking to the kitchen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, but Dave!” Klaus lifted himself up to look over the back of the couch at him. “They were just about to find out what happened to the two short dudes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those short dudes are Merry and Pippin, and they’re going to have to wait.” He sent Klaus an apologetic look, then put the phone (a phone that Klaus hadn’t seen before) up to his ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a minute or so of hushed conversation that Klaus couldn’t catch a word of, Dave hung the phone up and sent Klaus an apologetic look. “That’s work. They want me to come in.” he said, trying his best to stay as close to the truth as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Klaus frowned. “Can’t you tell them you’re busy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave walked over to Klaus and messed up his hair slightly, an affectionate smile on his face as he looked down at him. “That’s not how it works, I’m sorry. I’ll be back soon. In the morning, by the latest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus looked up at Dave, his face alight by the midday sun, and huffed. “That’s so long, though. What if I get bored and die without you here to entertain me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave couldn’t help the endeared chuckle as he took a moment to silently appreciate how beautiful Klaus was. Thankfully, he didn’t zone out for too long and he answered before the silence got weird. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. I have Netflix, remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Klaus sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay safe,” he said gently, his hand moving from Klaus’ hair to the side of Klaus’ face for just a moment. He wanted to say something else, but nothing fit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry,</span>
  </em>
  <span> maybe. Or </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> None of them worked, so he stayed silent as he pulled his hand away and made his way upstairs to get dressed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus watched as Dave left, his hand ever so slightly going up to rest over where Dave’s was moments before. His skin felt alight with fire and electricity. Before he thought about it too much, he brought a fuzzy blanket up to cover his cheeks and frowned at the paused television.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Dave returned at midnight. His body was sore and he was too tired to do much more than put one foot in front of the other and stumble into the penthouse. The first thing he did was go to the kitchen sink and start scrubbing. Of course, there wasn’t actually anything to scrub away. He never did a job without gloves, and he always kept it clean regardless. But that didn’t stop him from still </span>
  <em>
    <span>feeling</span>
  </em>
  <span> it, and in the dim light he could swear he still saw—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A noise—a quiet noise, but one without an explanation—came from the living room area, and Dave was immediately on high alert. He left the water on so the possible intruder didn’t know he’d caught onto their presence, opting to slowly reach behind himself to grab his gun and silently turn the safety off. As soon as it was secure in his hand, he whipped around and pointed it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing. There was nobody.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave narrowed his eyes and crept over to the living room, keeping a close watch on the shadows in case anybody was hiding. By the time he’d reached the back of the couch, there still wasn’t any sign of an intruder. He was about to chalk it up to his imagination when he heard it again: a sigh and a rustle of fabric.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked down and immediately his heart melted. It was Klaus (who Dave had figured was in bed) nestled in the same spot Dave left him and sound asleep. Dave quickly tucked his gun back into his pants after putting the safety back on and made his way to the other side of the couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As carefully as he possibly could, he gathered Klaus up in his arms and tried his best not to think about how quickly Klaus nestled into the warmth of his chest as he carried him up the stairs. He looked down at the peaceful face of the person who had apparently tried to stay up and wait for him—failing because he was still too tired from withdrawal—and smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Halfway up the stairs, Klaus began to stir. Dave, after pushing down a sliver of panic, took a deep breath and began to hum a lullaby his mother would sing to him when he was little. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hamalach hagoel osi mikol ra yevarech es han’arim vikareh bahem sh’mi</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave was able to push the door open without jostling Klaus too much. He carefully stooped down and put Klaus on the bed. Klaus shifted for a moment, getting comfortable in the new environment, but never opened his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave smiled down at him, taking a moment to just drink in the beauty of Klaus’ serene face in the pale moonlight. He looked angelic. Dave carefully brushed a curl off Klaus’ forehead, noting how much longer his hair had gotten since he first arrived.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>V’shem avosai Avraham v’Yizchak v’yidgu larov b’kerev ha’aretz</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The song came to an end, and Dave sighed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“A gute nakht un zise droymer,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Klaus,” he whispered. And turned to go to bed, closing the door behind him.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>A scream tore through the night air and Klaus jolted awake. He barely had a moment to wonder how he’d gotten to his bedroom before he heard another—coming right from Dave’s room. Klaus scrambled out of bed and ran to the source of the noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of the terror melted out of Klaus’ body as he stood in the doorway and looked at Dave sitting upright in bed, his sweat-covered chest heaving and lit only by the soft light from the city. The fading panic in Dave’s eyes made Klaus’ heart break. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dave?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment of looking at Klaus, realization finally began to take over the fear. Dave’s shoulders relaxed and he took a deep breath. “Hey,” he said roughly, rubbing his face with his hand. “Did I wake you up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus moved his head side to side. “A little,” he replied as he slowly made his way into the room. “It’s alright, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave frowned. He scooted back towards the wall to give Klaus space to sit on his bed, which Klaus did. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s alright. Nightmare, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus nodded. “I’m no stranger to those. It’s okay. Do you want to talk about it? Sometimes getting them out in the open makes them less scary.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave quickly shook his head, his eyes wide again. He couldn’t. He couldn’t tell Klaus that he dreamed about his hits, his jobs, because then Klaus would </span>
  <em>
    <span>know.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Klaus would be afraid of him, hate him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, that’s okay. Do you want a distraction, or do you want me to leave you alone to go back to sleep?” Klaus was no stranger to helping people through nightmares: between having them himself, living on the streets, and growing up with his siblings in </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> house, he’d like to call himself a pro. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you…” Dave trailed off and shook his head. He shifted lower in bed and put his head back on his pillow. “Nevermind, it’s stupid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, what?” Klaus shifted so Dave could pull his covers up to his chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was going to ask if you could sleep with me tonight,” Dave mumbled, not making eye contact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Dave could take back what he said, Klaus nodded. “Of course I can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You really don’t have to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus shifted to get in bed and under the covers. “Dave,” he started softly, lowering his voice because of how close they were, “I get nightmares too. Every night. They suck ass. And if sleeping in the same bed as you will help get rid of yours, then that’s what I’ll do. Plus, you’ve done so much for me, it’s only fair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave had to hide his frown at the last part. What did he do for Klaus, besides basically kidnap him and then show him some basic human decency? He opened his mouth to protest, but Klaus shifted slightly and made a soft, sleepy smile, and Dave knew he wasn’t going to move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he said quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Dave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Klaus.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Klaus never, ever wanted to move. Sure, he’d slept in the same bed as a lot of people. Like, so many people that he and probably a hundred other people could count them out on all their fingers and they would still need extras. And he’d even cuddled before (with his siblings, but still). But this was different</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dave was different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Admittedly, Dave still hadn’t woken up yet, and maybe Klaus was being selfish for not waking Dave up in case he really didn’t want to cuddle, or something, but so what? Klaus was allowed to enjoy at least a few minutes of contact with an admittedly </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> attractive person (even if he was a cop). Sue him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus’ heart sank a little bit when he felt Dave shifting, because everything could end. Thankfully, those movements only led to more contact, though. Their legs became even more tangled, Dave’s arms tightened around him, and he curled more around him. Klaus felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>secure</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And he never wanted it to end. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave made a soft noise and pressed his lips against Klaus’ temple. The moment they both realized what he had just done, they froze, Dave’s eyes shooting open. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He kissed me.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Klaus was so glad his face was against Dave’s shoulder so Dave couldn’t see the massive smile that instantly took over his features. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Dave pulled away, “I’m so sorry, I—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cut himself off, looking at Klaus’ face closely. He didn’t look mad, or offended, or taken aback. Past some shock and confusion, Klaus looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What if…?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave cupped the side of Klaus’ face, sliding his fingers through Klaus’ hair. He leaned in slightly but didn’t close the distance, silently giving Klaus the opportunity to pull away. But he </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t.</span>
  </em>
  <span> With a burst of courage, Dave leaned in the rest of the way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the world fell away to reveal something Dave never thought was possible. Time stood still. It wasn’t fireworks and cheering and a leg pop like in the movies, it was peace, beauty, tranquility, warmth. He wanted to feel like this forever. For as long as he could remember, Dave had never felt so—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A harsh buzzing shattered the moment. Dave wanted to hold onto the shards, but they all slipped through his fingers. Klaus pulled away with a soft giggle, the expression on his face looking just as stunned as Dave felt. “I think you should go get that, Davey,” Klaus hummed, raking his fingers through Dave’s hair and dragging his perfect nails across his scalp. Dave was too caught up in the nickname and in looking at Klaus’ beautiful face to wonder when Klaus’ hand had gotten there. There were more important things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few moments, Dave realized Klaus had said something </span>
  <em>
    <span>before</span>
  </em>
  <span> he called him that wonderful nickname. “Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That made Klaus laugh harder. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>said,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the door-buzzer-thingy is buzzing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think it’s my clothes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave climbed out of bed, making a note that he should probably move it at some point so he wouldn’t be stuck against the wall the next time they slept together. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Next time. Huh</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Probably. It’s been long enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus clapped his hands together and sat up to watch Dave go. “Oh yay!”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Dave returned a few minutes later to see Klaus happily snuggled in </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> bed. A whole bundle of emotions flared up in his stomach at the sight. Most were happy, but some, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m lying to him.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Before he could dwell on that thought for too long, he pushed it to the side and cleared his throat, holding up the packages. “Delivery,” he announced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus lifted his head up and grinned. “Is that all of them?” He pushed the blankets to the side and crossed the floor to take the boxes from Dave, then set them down on the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Looks like it. Here, let me.” Dave took a pocket knife from his bedside table and sliced through the tape.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus craned his neck to get a better look at the blade as it was quickly returned. “That’s a really nice knife, where did you get it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, my dad.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Technically not a lie.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus started taking the clothes out of the boxes and looking over them. “My brother Diego is really into knives. I think he likes the throwing ones more, though.” Thankfully, before Dave had to think of a response, Klaus had already moved on. “Wow,” he sighed, “this skirt is even prettier than in the picture.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave smiled and sat on the bed, leaving room for the growing piles of clothes. “Do you want to try it on?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah! Um…” He took a moment to scan the clothes. “With this top!” He grabbed a sheer crop top and held it up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A blush was already starting to creep over Dave’s cheeks. Before he could say anything about how that would look good on him, Klaus had already bent at the waist and pushed his pants down and he was halfway through with getting his shirt over his head. It took every ounce of Dave’s strength not to make a choking noise as he turned away, face bright red.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus wasn’t naked, of course. Dave knew he was wearing underwear, but just seeing his beautiful figure like that… Dave was going to have that image burned in his mind </span>
  <em>
    <span>forever. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Yet, despite how perfect Klaus was, there was something off. Dave frowned and snuck another glance—</span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not like he’s trying to be modest,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dave rationalized—and what he saw nearly made him throw up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Klaus?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus turned to Dave with a barely suppressed smirk on his face. Dave had to push past the fact that he was standing there in just a skirt, no shirt. Nothing covering his beautiful torso, </span>
  <em>
    <span>except—</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where did you get all those bruises?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus’ face fell and he looked down at his torso, littered with yellow and brown splotches, healing and old scars, and other marks. “Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In Klaus’ silence, Dave realized what was going on:</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I tell them they can mark me up for a little extra. Most of them do.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“How much extra?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Depends on what you’re into.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave looked back up at Klaus, who was holding himself almost self-consciously. “Come here,” he murmured, holding his arms out. Klaus mutely did just that, allowing himself to get pulled into Dave’s lap. “It’s okay,” Dave said against Klaus’ curls, pressing kisses there between his words. “You’re safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few minutes of holding him, Dave kissed Klaus again. “Hey, do you wanna try on the rest of these clothes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small smile grew into a larger one as Klaus nodded. “Yeah! I think I’m going to try this jacket on next with these pants and this tank top.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave smiled back from his position on the bed. He didn’t have to lie every time he told Klaus how beautiful he looked in each new combination of clothes. No gasp or ‘ooh’ was forced. Klaus was truly a sight to behold, and Dave would like nothing more than to spend the rest of his days doing just that.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Happy pride month, Dave drinks respect nb people juice!</p><p>Thank you so much for reading! Next chapter's title is from "Like Real People Do" by Hozier. I just wanted to do a special thank you to everybody who has been leaving comments, you guys are really encouraging and so sweet! I love you all &lt;3</p><p>Author's Note:</p><ul>
<li>The lullaby that Dave sang is called "HaMalach HaGo'el." You can find info on it <a href="http://www.zemirotdatabase.org/view_song.php?id=26">here,</a> as well as a translation if you're interested! Shoutout to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmAndFandems/pseuds/EmAndFandems">EmAndFandems</a> for pointing me in the direction of this lullaby! Ily!</li>
<li>A gute nakht un zise droymer: yiddish, "goodnight and sweet dreams"</li>
<li>Watching Lord of the Rings with your crush is gay nerd culture and it has fantastic vibes. Highly recommend</li>
</ul>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Put Your Sweet Lips on My Lips</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title of this chapter is from "Like Real People Do" by Hozier! Just a head's up, this chapter does have a pretty spicy scene, but it is fade to black. If you want the full version, the link is in the author's note at the end!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Hey Dave?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave hummed and looked up from his book. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we, like… a couple now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave blinked and set his book down in his lap. “Would you like to be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus chewed on his lip and brushed his hair to the side. He set his pencil down on the drawing pad Dave had gotten him with a frown. “I think so, yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave smiled. “Me too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus smiled back, but it was only a shadow of what Dave knew it could be. “Okay, but I have to tell you something first.” At Dave’s nod for him to continue, Klaus did. “I don’t… I’m not used to relationships, or anything like that. I think the closest I’ve gotten to a relationship was when I slept on a guy’s couch for three weeks and he made me food and stuff.” Klaus trailed off with a frown. “I don’t think I’d be a good partner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, no, don’t say that,” Dave said softly. He got up and moved behind Klaus on the floor. With Klaus’ silent permission, he pulled him against his chest and let his legs fall on either side of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have any experience in this sort of thing,” Klaus admitted, letting his head fall back against Dave’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s okay. Neither do I.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus frowned, but this time it was more out of confusion than thought. “What do you mean you don’t have experience? Anybody would be insane to not want to date you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave shrugged, moving Klaus’ body slightly. He wrapped his arms around Klaus’ waist and took a moment to collect his thoughts. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Was he really going to tell Klaus this?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Well,” he started cautiously, “I grew up in a very close knit community. Everybody I knew was either literally family, or they were close enough that that sort of thing would have just been weird. And once I was an adult, my job just made me too busy for a relationship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, my brother’s a cop, and the only reason why he’s married is because she’s a detective.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave was glad that Klaus was facing away from him so he didn’t see the surprised look pass over his face. “Oh, wow,” he said, hoping it sounded normal and not like he was freaking out that his partner’s sibling was a cop. “Well, I guess I got lucky, because work has been light recently, so I have more time to spend with you.” He pulled Klaus close and started kissing his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus squirmed and laughed in Dave’s arms. “You’re so fucking cheesy sometimes, I swear.” They fell into a sort of silence. It would have been called comfortable, if not for Klaus’ fidgeting. Before Dave could ask what was up, Klaus spoke up again. “I was a sex worker,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Dave replied cautiously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the guy that I was living with at the time wasn’t nice to me either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave let that sink in, resting his chin on Klaus’ shoulder. The signs were definitely there. He could see in the way Klaus held himself, how he was so quick to smooth anything over, all of the apologies. “Okay,” he said. “I’m not going to be like that with you, you know that, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus stayed quiet for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, good. And I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus nodded again. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “You don’t have to thank me for that, love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus shrugged. “I want to.” There was another gap in the conversation before he spoke up again. “You don’t have to keep paying me. You’ve given me enough, and I… I don’t know, I’m not here for the money, or really even because I have to hide, or whatever. I’m just happy with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave grinned, pushing down any inkling of guilt as he pulled Klaus in for a real kiss. When they separated, he said, “I’m happy with you too, </span>
  <em>
    <span>neshama sheli.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Klaus was happy—of course he was. He had a home and good food and an amazing boyfriend. Everything was good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The papers hadn’t been moved from under the guest room bed. Klaus poured over them for as much as information as he could get whenever he had free time, or whenever Dave left the house (which was happening more and more often), but try as he might, there simply wasn’t enough information to glean from just those few papers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hypothetically, even if they were overflowing with information, that didn’t address the elephant in the room: Klaus was stuck. He had no way to get the things he learned to Diego or anybody else. He could show it to Dave, but that would involve trying to explain so many things that he would end up in jail, and that was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> something Klaus could do again. Call him a coward, but jails and twinks who had always had an odd connection to the spirit world was not a good combination. He’d tried it before. It didn’t end well. Klaus was completely cut off from the outside world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was for his safety, and he knew that, but that didn’t stop the sheer frustration of it all. Klaus was </span>
  <em>
    <span>so close</span>
  </em>
  <span> to solving Ben’s death—he had basically definite proof that Ben was killed by Damien Caspary’s mob family—but he couldn’t do anything about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus scoffed and tossed the papers onto the guest bed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t believe I got sober for this shit,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought with a scowl. It was quickly interrupted, though, when he realized what that actually meant. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No, Ben wanted me sober. This is for him.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Before he could think any further on the matter, the front door to the penthouse opened and closed, announcing Dave’s arrival.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, sweetheart,” Dave called up to the second floor. “I brought you something!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus scrubbed away his frustrated tears with the sleeve of a sweatshirt he’d stolen from Dave and was not planning on returning until it stopped smelling like him. “One moment!” He carefully folded the papers and put them back under the mattress. Before he went down the stairs, he checked in the bathroom mirror to see if his eyeliner had left any streaks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I went to the store on my way home from work,” Dave said, standing at the counter and taking things out of a small bag. There was also something wooden leaning against the counter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Klaus slid into his chair and watched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I know I got you that sketchbook and those pencils about a week ago—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’m so so </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> grateful, you have no idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave looked at him with a smile for a moment before continuing. “Well, I remembered you saying something about how you used to paint. So I got you some stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus gasped loudly and dove for the bag, pulling out watercolor paints, brushes of assorted sizes, and pad after pad of watercolor paper. “Oh my god, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dave!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Klaus leapt out of his chair and threw his arms around his neck, pulling the slightly taller man down for a kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they pulled apart, Dave did so with a light laugh. “And I got you an easel, too.” He motioned to the wood—a folded up easel. At Klaus’ excited squeal, Dave laughed again. “You like it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like it?” Klaus nearly screeched, looking at everything with a sort of reverence, like he was afraid they would disappear if he touched them with too much force. “Dave, this is… I mean, holy shit.” He looked back up at Dave with tears in his eyes. “I can’t repay you for this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave’s smile fell a little. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Yekirì,</span>
  </em>
  <span> you don’t have to pay me back for anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, but—” Klaus cut himself off and wiped away the tears that fell with the sleeve of his sweatshirt once again, frustrated at this being the second time he’d cried that day. “I just feel bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave frowned and pulled Klaus in for a tight hug. “Why do you feel bad, love?” He kissed Klaus’ head and carded his hands through Klaus’ curls, a habit he’d picked up to comfort the both of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve done so much for me, and I can’t do anything back.” His voice was slightly muffled in Dave’s shirt, but the point came across. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You already do so much for me,” Dave said gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus pulled back and looked up at him. “Wait, I think I have an idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Dave frowned and watched as Klaus went back over to the watercolors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can paint you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blush that appeared on Dave’s face was thankfully light enough that Klaus didn’t notice it. “Oh, uh, I mean, you don’t have to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I want to! I like doing portraits anyway, and you’re the perfect subject!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t get what you—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Davey,” Klaus huffed, exasperated. He set the brushes back down on the counter and leveled a look at him. “You’re handsome as fuck.” He went back to looking through his things, speaking lightly like he wasn’t making Dave blush an ever-brightening red. “I’m pretty sure if you were alive in Italy a few centuries ago, Michelangelo himself would have—Oh my god. Dave, are you immortal?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Dave squirmed under Klaus’ suddenly scrutinizing look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing, nevermind,” Klaus murmured in response, though he didn’t look completely satisfied. “I think I should paint you behind the couch, in that open space by all the windows. There will be really good lighting there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave looked out the windows and frowned. “But the sun is already about to set.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly. Now hurry up, mister.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Within a few minutes, they had rearranged the furniture so they each had somewhere to sit during the painting process. A section of the couch was dragged into the middle of the open area for Dave, and Klaus set his easel up by the part they hadn’t moved. They got his stool too, though Klaus knew he would be standing at least half the time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took longer than Klaus would have liked for him to get reaccustomed to the push and pull of watercolor. Sure, it was something he loved about the medium, but he had to take a few sheets of watercolor paper to get used to the flow. Once he did, though, he was unstoppable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Painting with watercolor was a conversation. It required confidence and poise and a willingness to take risks, while also letting the paint do what it wants. Klaus could feel the tension leave his body as he pulled the colors across the paper. His own spontaneity and that of the paint worked together, and the painting quickly started to take shape.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time Klaus was done, it was nearly dark. “There,” he sighed, sitting back onto the stool.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave was starstruck. The whole time, he had to consciously make sure he didn’t move too much, but it was hard not to. When he was painting, Klaus looked as fluid as the watercolors. He moved with the brush, turning it almost into a dance. And the way his brow furrowed in concentration, and how sometimes his tongue would poke out the side of his mouth… Dave was floored.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He licked his lips, cleared his throat, and spoke. “May I see it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus hummed and nodded, making a motion with his hand for Dave to come over. “The paint’s still wet,” he explained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave crossed the space, a little sore from staying in one place for as long as he did, and stopped when he was right behind Klaus, almost pressed against him. “Wow,” he breathed, “sweetheart this is…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oranges, blues, reds, purples, greens splashed across Dave’s face in an ethereal dance. The longer Dave stood there and gazed at it, absently rubbing Klaus’ arms, the more he noticed: the small smirk on his face, the way the blue of his eyes seemed to splash within itself, the twists and dips and twirls of his curls. It was perfect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus giggled quietly, leaning back into Dave’s chest. “It’s…?” he prompted, though he already knew the answer from Dave’s reaction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s beautiful! Gorgeous! Breathtaking! I… I love it. I really, really, truly love it.” He turned Klaus around and tilted his chin up so they could look each other in the eyes. “It’s the second most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus snorted, acting flippant despite the way his heart seemed to flutter in his chest. “If you say I’m the first, I’m going to slap you, Katz.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And so what if you are the most beautiful thing in the world?” Dave hummed, his lips ghosting against Klaus’ but never quite touching as he kept a gentle hold on Klaus’ chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I’d tell you that you’ll have to prove it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Dave’s free hand settled on Klaus’ hip and he pulled him closer. “And how would you suggest I do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a split second, Klaus floundered. Despite having had sex for over a decade, more times than Klaus could count, this was completely new territory. Suddenly Dave was looking at him with awe, admiration, </span>
  <em>
    <span>love.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He didn’t want to claim Klaus, or hurt him, or get something out of him. No, this was something completely different, something Klaus wasn’t sure had a name. It sent shivers down his spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave noticed this moment of uneasiness and immediately backed off. “Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus frowned and looked up at Dave. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You kind of spaced out, I wanted to check in on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because…” Dave’s shoulders dropped down slightly. “Because I wanted to make sure you were okay with where we were going.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, of course I am!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. If you aren’t, though, you can say something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus rolled his eyes. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He didn’t know. Dave saying that shocked him too. But he wasn’t about to admit that. “Now, back to what you were saying about me being beautiful?” He batted his eyelashes and stepped closer to Dave again. His hand trailed up Dave’s torso and he pushed his fingers through Dave’s hair as they finally kissed.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Dave was gentler than anybody Klaus had ever been with. It felt like a dream, everything just so perfect. The whole time, he kept checking to see if Klaus was okay. He held Klaus like with a sort of reverence that made him feel like a piece of fine art. Klaus wasn’t sure how he felt. It was weird to not be treated as a thing to be conquered, to be given so much respect and kindness. Dave took care of Klaus and asked for nothing in return, and it was beautiful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the end, when they were little more than a warm, sweaty mass of limbs tangled together, Dave whispered that he loved Klaus into the dark. And Klaus whispered it back. The words, though dusty from lack of use, felt more natural than breathing.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Over time, Dave taught Klaus many things. He taught him that marks out of love and marks out of anger were two very different things, and only one of them was good. He taught him that he is allowed to not be perfect all of the time. He taught him how to live life. Most importantly, he taught him how to be loved. And it was almost perfect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would have been perfect, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be perfect. But even as they cuddled up on the couch and watched movies, or sat out on the balcony, or cooked together, there were still things lurking in the shadows. The papers were still under the mattress of the guest bedroom. Klaus was still hiding. Dave was still lying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Klaus was getting restless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One night, when Dave was away again at work, Klaus went into the kitchen and got Dave’s phone from the drawer. He just held it for a moment, looking at it. He was potentially taking his life into his own hands, but at the same time, he knew he had no choice. With that, Klaus took a deep breath and dialed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hel—?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Diego?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh thank god.” There was a heavy sigh on the other end. “Klaus, I thought you were dead. Where have you been? You can’t just ask for the address of the city’s biggest crime boss and then disappear off the face of the Earth for months on end.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus could have cried at the sound of his brother’s voice. “I’ve been in a penthouse. In custody, or whatever. With a cop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a moment of dead air. Klaus could hear the frown on Diego’s face. “Back up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span> is happening?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I got into the house and I grabbed some papers—you </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> have to see these, Diego, I finally have proof—but I guess Damien found out and now he’s after me. But it’s okay, because one of your cop friends picked me up, and I’ve been staying at his place for the past few months. He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> nice, much better than you, and—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold on, I never heard anything about this. What do you mean ‘one of my cop friends?’ What’s his name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus frowned. “David Katz.” Silence. “Di—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There isn’t any cop by that name, Klaus. At least not in this city.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>:)</p><p>Thank you guys so much for reading! Comments are much appreciated &lt;3 Ily all, have a fantastic week!</p><p>Author's Note:</p><ul>
<li>Neshama sheli: Hebrew, "my soul"</li>
<li>Yekirì: Hebrew, "my dear"</li>
<li>Okay so! I wrote out the fade to black scene and you can find it <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24968212">here!</a> Watch out for smut cause like,,, yeah. I hope y'all enjoy! It's really fucking soft and sweet</li>
<li>Yes I did just take time to make a Michelangelo's David joke, deal with it smh</li>
<li>Holy <i>shit</i> i have so many feelings about Klaus painting using watercolors and I'm so happy I got to actually make those useful. Watercolors just! match Klaus' personality! Idk, he has big watercolor vibes, and I'm not just saying that because I love painting using watercolors.</li>
<li>I would like to say a quick shoutout to princejoopie's <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24317518/chapters/58625053">The Unlucky Ones</a>, the other mob au klave fic that's been going up! If y'all haven't read it, you absolutely should. Jordan is an absolute genius and they're basically a writing deity. If you have time, I highly suggest checking it out!</li>
</ul>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. You're Just Too Good to Be True</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you guys so much for 1k hits! I never thought this would get as many hits as it has. I love you guys so much, please enjoy! This chapter's title is from "Can't Take My Eyes off You" by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Tears quickly clouded his view of the penthouse as Klaus hung the phone up and put it back in the drawer. He slammed it shut and ran up to his and Dave’s room, immediately diving under the covers and throwing them over his head. For the first time in a while, Klaus was terrified, lost, alone, and didn’t have a clue of what to do next.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next few days, Klaus didn’t speak a word about it. He decided that when Dave next went to a job, Klaus would just pack his things up and slip away, braving whoever was after him on his own (if anybody even </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> after him).</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave, of course, was as sweet as ever. Evidently he’d noticed that Klaus seemed more down than usual, and instead of pressing the matter, he just decided to shower Klaus with even more love and attention. Even with the sick feeling that twisted Klaus’ stomach when he thought about how he didn’t know a single thing about the man he loved, he couldn’t help but feel warm and happy whenever Dave smiled at him or held him or told him how much he loved him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was all so confusing. Klaus wasn’t sure if he’d ever been in so much pain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few days after Klaus made the phone call, he and Dave were eating a nice breakfast together at the breakfast bar. It was Dave’s signature chocolate chip smiley face pancakes and glasses of orange juice with little paper umbrellas—the perfect breakfast. Like always, Klaus had stayed quiet while Dave muttered his brachot under his breath, and they continued into comfortable conversation afterwards. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That is, until Dave’s phone buzzed. The one in the drawer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave scowled, slid out of his seat, and walked over to look at it. He read the message once, twice, and then a third time, his face getting more and more pale. “Oy lo.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus had put his fork down with a frown. “Davey?” he asked. “Is everything alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” was the distant answer. “No, uh… Okay. So some people are coming over, but they can’t see you, alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus’ heart immediately leapt up into his throat. “What? What’s wrong?” His voice shook with panic.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay, love,” Dave soothed. “I just </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> can’t let them see you. They’re bad people for an undercover operation I’m doing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus could see straight through the lie, which only terrified him further. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave shook his head, more flustered and worried than Klaus had seen him in all his months of being at the penthouse. “Klaus, we don’t have much time. I swear, I’ll explain everything after they leave. I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus swallowed and nodded. Even after everything, he still trusted Dave. “Okay. Where should I go?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh…” Dave glanced around. “Our bedroom. Lock the door. You’ll be alright in there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay.” Klaus turned to run up the stairs, but Dave caught his arm. He turned back with a raised eyebrow, which quickly fell when Dave pulled him into a deep kiss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They parted a few moments later, slightly breathless. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Ikh hab dikh lib,</span>
  </em>
  <span> I love you,” Dave said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you too.” And with that, Klaus ran upstairs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave only had enough time to replace the weapons in his kitchen before he heard a sharp knock on the door. Immediately, his heart was up in his throat. He stiffly walked over to the door and opened it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Katz!” Damien boomed as he walked into the penthouse, not waiting for an invitation. A slightly smaller—yet still intimidating—man ducked in after him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Damien,” Dave said haltingly, closing the door behind the two.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s good to see you. I wish we were meeting on better terms, but alas,” he sighed and shrugged. “What can you do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave shot a wary look towards the other man, who Damien still hadn’t even acknowledged. “You didn’t give a reason for your visit earlier, I’m sorry, is something wrong?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>How did you find out I didn’t finish the job?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, but first, I would like for you to meet someone who I’m very fond of.” He motioned for the other to come closer. “See, this is another of my men. He does very fine work, just like you. Or, almost like you. Very effective. Dave, meet Edward. Edward, meet Dave.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward stepped closer to shake Dave’s hand, squeezing way more than was necessary. “Nice to meet you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave just nodded silently in response. There was something about this man that he did not like, and he wanted to have as little contact with him as possible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re both here because you’re both involved in this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave shifted from one foot to another. He struggled to see how this other man somehow fit into </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> disobedience, but he wasn’t going to speak up. Damien would tell, in his own time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Katz, tell me, do you remember all the jobs you do for me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, sir.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>I wish I didn’t.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good. Well, there’s something I need to tell you about one of your hits. He was the tall, skinny prostitute, covered in bruises. Short hair. I assigned you to him because he wasn’t paying his dues. Sound familiar?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave resisted the urge to glance towards the staircase. “Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well that person’s name was Klaus. Edward had been keeping an eye on him for me, but then he got into some trouble, which is where you came in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave’s heart was pounding in his ears as he tried his best to keep his voice as steady as it could. “Oh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You see, he never owed me any money. It was never about dues. He was a person of interest for me, connected to something we did a few years back. He was trying to gather information on us, so I had Edward make sure he couldn’t do that. But—” Damien sent a harsh glare towards Edward. “—Edward let him get away, and Klaus broke into House 3.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s the real reason why I had you take him out. He had too much information on the Family. It was either he joined us, or he died. And you made that decision for him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The relief that Dave felt at Damien still not knowing that Klaus was alive was short lived. Klaus was in way more trouble than he thought. “What’s the problem, if he was the only one who knew?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He wasn’t the only one. Apparently before we got to him, he was able to contact his brother, a cop, but not one of ours. He started looking into our files again, something that cannot happen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward cracked his knuckles, drawing the attention of the two others towards him. It was only then that Dave realized he was sitting in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Klaus’ chair.</span>
  </em>
  <span> His lip curled in disgust. “Want us to take him out?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, not just yet,” Damien said. “For now, we’re just watching. He won’t find anything. I just wanted to let you both know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave gave a curt nod. “Alright.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Klaus threw the door shut. His heart was pounding, tears were pricking at the backs of his eyes. He was in danger. He needed to leave, now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He only took a moment of looking around the room before he started gathering his things in a backpack he’d found on a shelf in their—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dave’s</span>
  </em>
  <span>—closet. If he started crying, he wasn’t going to admit it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry, Dave. I love you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And wasn’t that funny? The first time Klaus said that he loved somebody since Ben, and now he was running away, because he had no true idea of who this person was. Klaus shook his head, wiped the sleeve of the sweatshirt he was wearing under his eyes, and went back to collecting his belongings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not even a few minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and soon the sound of conversation drifted up the staircase into the room. Klaus stilled, both to listen in and so he wouldn’t make any noise that would attract attention. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he first heard it, he couldn’t believe it. That name. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It must be a coincidence. It has to be. He can’t be </span>
  </em>
  <span>here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then he heard his voice. Edward’s voice. And the world fell away. Before he truly realized what he was doing, Klaus got down on the floor and wedged himself under the bed. He squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed at his hair—</span>
  <em>
    <span>too long.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He’d let it grow out like he’d always wanted because he thought he would never see Edward again and that he would never have to go back to work again. It was false hope.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why is he here?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus opened his eyes. He needed to find a way to escape. He was about to push himself out from under the bed when his eyes fell on an envelope that looked far too familiar to what he saw in the boxes in Damien’s house. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus pulled it closer to him and opened it. Papers. Exact copies of the ones Klaus had hidden under the mattress in the guest bedroom, plus more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He threw them away from him and scrambled out into the room. His eyes fixed only on the bed before him, he backed up, arms wrapped tight around his middle, until his back bumped against the closet door. Without even thinking, he pulled it open and went inside, shutting it behind him and turning the light off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was trapped. He couldn’t leave with Edward there. He had to wait in the room of a person who, for some reason, had information on Ben’s death and the Caspary family.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something shoved into the back corner of the closet, under a mountain of blankets, caught his eye. A box.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Please no.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It looked like the one Klaus had on Ben. Hands shaking, he pulled it out and opened it. There was no escaping this. He had to find out who Dave was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the box was a small key, identical to the key that Edward always carried on his belt, a small jewelry box, and more papers. Klaus squeezed his eyes shut to ground himself, trying to think of another explanation for everything that was happening other than what was front and center in his mind. In that instant, though, he was somewhere else entirely.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Klaus, you need to listen to me. I pissed off some very bad people, and—”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah, Benny, you’re a journalist.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“They threatened me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Klaus frowned and squinted at him. If he was honest, the drugs he’d taken a few minutes before were starting to make the edges around Ben’s body look a little hazy. “You know me, I usually don’t say go to the cops, but, like, we have Diego now. He’ll be able to protect you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“He wouldn’t understand.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“And I do? I don’t know shit about the mob! I haven’t even seen </span>
  </em>
  <span>The Godfather!” </span>
  <em>
    <span>He let out a high-pitched giggle and his hand thudded into his lap.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ben sighed and pushed his hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to do.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t see why you can’t just tell Diego! I mean, he’s a whole ass cop now. If you really need something done, he can do it. I don’t know how I can help you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“The cops are compromised too!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“These guys, they have people that are cops that are on their side. Going to the police wouldn’t do anything.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Not Diego.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“There was one that showed up outside my house the other day and told me to look the other way.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Fun.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ben shook his head and stepped back. “Just—nevermind. Go back to your sex and drugs and whatever else you want to do with your life.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Klaus scoffed. “Nobody even reads the newspaper anymore! At least I make people happy!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ben’s face twisted up with a look that would too easily be described as disgust for Klaus’ comfort. “Goodbye, Klaus.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The next day, when Klaus got the phone call from Diego—who had found Ben’s body—Klaus collapsed on the ground. “Oh my god,” he sobbed into his hand. </span>
  </em>
  <span>What have I done?</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Klaus rubbed his hands over his eyes until all he saw were white spots. His head thunked against the back of the closet. “Fuck,” he whispered, his voice broken. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Fuck.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Things still hadn’t changed since the day he found out. Klaus still knew that Ben’s death was his fault, and he still knew that he had to do whatever he could to make up for that. Call it guilt over dismissing Ben, a weird coping mechanism, some attempt to make up for all the time he wasted on drugs. Klaus didn’t care. He was going to do this, no matter the cost.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His gaze fell back on the box and he pulled it towards him. He loved Dave. He really did. But Ben’s death needed to be avenged. And if looking through the love of his life’s stuff meant doing that—no matter how painful—then so be it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He reached into the box and started pulling things out. Before he could do anything, though, the bedroom door creaked open, and Klaus froze. Hesitant footsteps gradually made their way over to the closet door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Klaus?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus wasn’t sure if he was relieved or panicked when he recognized Dave’s voice. Before he could answer, Dave pulled the closet door open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Klaus.” To his credit, Dave stepped back when Klaus shot to his feet, face a mask of defiance pulled over clear hurt. Dave put his hands up. “It isn’t what it looks like.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What does it look like?” His voice was surprisingly steady, though Klaus still winced as he spoke.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave glanced down at the box. “Did you see those papers?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can guess what they are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you know who I am, then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t want to have to say it out loud. “Tell me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave nodded. That was fair. He knew that the truth was going to drive Klaus away, but if he was honest, he never deserved to have Klaus close to begin with. He took a deep breath. “Have you heard of Damien Caspary?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In a flash, Klaus was on his feet and had slapped Dave across the face. He stood there, both terrified and triumphant. Dave made no move to defend himself or retaliate. His hand just slowly went to his jaw and he sighed, closing his tearful eyes. “I grew up under him. I… I thought I couldn’t escape, but I’ve been gathering evidence on him and the rest of the Family. I actually pissed Damien off when I asked one too many questions. But I’m going to report them and turn myself in for what I did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus blinked. He couldn’t let himself process what Dave had said, so he found himself asking the easiest question: “What you did?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave cringed. His voice wavering more than Klaus had ever heard before, he quietly said, “I’ve killed people. I think I killed your brother.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After that, Klaus didn’t really remember much. He could see Dave’s lips moving as he continued to speak, but he couldn’t hear any of the words over the sound of his own blood rushing through his ears. Eventually, Dave gave up and left the penthouse, mumbling something about a bar. That night, Klaus gathered his things and disappeared into the night.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>To quote my beta reader: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa</p>
<p>Once again, thank you so much to everybody who has been reading (especially to those leaving kudos and comments). You guys really really warm my heart &lt;3</p>
<p>Author's Note:</p>
<ul>
<li>Oy lo: Hebrew, "oh no"</li>
<li>Ikh hab dikh lib: Yiddish, "I love you"</li>
<li>Ben being a journalist is a thought that makes me really really happy. I have a feeling that, because of his childhood, he would have thought that being an investigative journalist would be a good career for him, so he wouldn't have to hurt people in order to save people.</li>
<li>Reminder that Edward is an asshole and we all hate him</li>
</ul>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Spent out Like a Light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Quick warning: this chapter discusses food! This chapter's title is from "Out Like a Light" by The Honeysticks!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was pouring rain, because of course it was. Klaus was glad he’d decided to not leave Dave’s sweatshirt behind: as cute as it was, the skirt he was wearing did nothing to shield him from the still-chilly spring air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somewhere from an alley, somebody whistled at him. He pulled the straps of his backpack closer, ducked his head lower beneath the hood, and just kept walking. He wasn’t going to do that sort of thing anymore, he’d decided, ignoring what may have caused him to make that decision. Images of Dave smiling kindly flashed across his mind when he blinked, and he swore he could hear his voice calling him “angel” amongst the raindrops. Klaus violently shook his head to clear it all away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His feet only stopped when he was standing at the doorstep. Water dripped into his shoes when he reached up and knocked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took a few seconds. Klaus could hear shuffling inside before the deadbolt turned and the door was pulled open. He almost cried when he saw his brother’s face. He did cry when Diego immediately let him in. Klaus pushed forward and wrapped his arms tight around Diego’s torso, sobbing into his shoulder. Diego shot a worried look at Eudora, but that didn’t stop him from rubbing Klaus’ back and telling him everything would be alright.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, he was able to peel Klaus away and give him some dry clothes to change into. He and Eudora looked at the bedroom door Klaus disappeared behind, both silent for a moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to go put the kettle on,” Eudora said eventually, stepping away to go into the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus changed in silence. He wanted to cry again when he handed Dave’s sweatshirt off to Diego for him to put in the wash, but he didn’t seem to have any tears left. Once the tea was ready, they all sat around the kitchen table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diego opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off by the sound of rustling. Klaus was hunched over, digging through his backpack. He slapped a handful of papers onto the table, got up, and left for the guest bedroom.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>“Do you think this Dave guy has anything to do with why Klaus is acting like this?” Eudora looked at the guest room door, which hadn’t opened once (save for the occasional meal) in three days. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diego looked up from the papers Klaus gave him, which he had been pouring over since he got them. “Huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eudora rolled her eyes. For a person who was going through school to be a detective, Diego was a person who let a lot of things go over his head. “Dave, the guy Klaus was staying with.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. Yeah.” Diego frowned. That could be a good explanation—the weird disappearance coupled with the odd behavior certainly meant something was up. “Why do you think he was impersonating an officer? Do you think it might have been some sort of hostage situation?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And what does he have to do with Ben?” Eudora added.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Diego nodded as he followed along and echoed, “what </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> he have to do with Ben?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“At least he looks well-fed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And his hair is a lot longer—he hasn’t been on the streets.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And he’s sober. With less bruises.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diego shook his head. “What the fuck happened these past few months?”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>The next morning, when Diego and Eudora stepped out of their bedroom to go into the living room, they stopped. Klaus was sitting cross legged on the couch. It was an improvement, they thought. Sure, it didn’t look like he’d taken a shower in days, and they could both tell that he hadn’t slept well in just about as long, but at least he was out of the bedroom. Baby steps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Klaus,” Eudora spoke first, moving past Diego into the kitchen like it wasn’t a big deal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diego didn’t have the same amount of tact. He stood there for another moment, then pushed forward and sat next to Klaus on the couch. When Klaus didn’t speak first, Diego started. “What happened?” He could practically hear Eudora’s sigh from the other room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus blinked at the ground and pulled his knees up to his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“K, you have to talk to us if you want us to help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you tell me about the papers? Where did you get them?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was no reaction save for a sigh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who was Dave Katz?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That did the trick. Klaus looked at Diego, his face hard and unmoving. “I don’t want to talk about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, you don’t have to talk about Dave, but I need to know about these papers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus’ jaw clenched and his gaze drifted back down to the ground. “I got them from Damien’s house.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diego took a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair. “Alright. What do the letters in the corner of the second pages mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shrug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eudora and I think that they were a way to identify the assassin.” Diego hoped that by specifically saying assassin he could get Klaus to open up a little, showing that he now believed him after all those years: Ben’s death wasn’t a suicide. When there wasn’t an answer, he continued. “Klaus, does the ‘D’ on Brooke’s papers stand for Dave?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus shot him a glare and shot to his feet, then marched back to the guest room, slamming the door behind him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diego sighed and leaned forward to put his head in his hands. “Shit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus dove back into the bed and pulled the blankets over his head. He took a moment to readjust the pillows so one pressed against his back and he could hug one against his chest, then curled up into a ball and closed his eyes. A few tears dripped down his temple onto a third pillow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Brooke’s death couldn’t have been on Dave. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dave wasn’t cruel. He didn’t drag out pain. Brooke was tortured. Dave was too kind to—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s a murderer.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The voice floated up again, a voice that wouldn’t shut up for the past three days. It scolded him for positioning pillows and blankets so it would feel like Dave was holding him. It tsked at him when he cried. It told him how stupid he was for falling in love with Dave, for still being in love with him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop,” Klaus begged quietly, his voice cracking. “Please.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>“Talking about it isn’t helping,” Eudora sighed, passing Diego a cup of coffee.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but we have to know what happened.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She tilted her head at him. “We’ll figure it out. But for right now we just need to take care of him. Clearly something—or somebody—broke his heart. So now we pick up the pieces.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Alright.” He could do that.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>The next morning, Klaus woke up to the smell of pancakes. If he hadn’t opened his eyes, he would have been able to imagine he was back in the penthouse. </span>
  <em>
    <span>(Why the fuck did he want to go back? He’s a murderer!)</span>
  </em>
  <span> But his eyes opened of their own accord and his stomach growled. Clearly his body was conspiring against him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, Klaus dragged himself out of bed and reluctantly opened the door. He shuffled out to the kitchen and sat down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good morning,” Diego said warmly from where he was standing over the stove.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus mumbled something incoherent back, which seemed to satisfy Diego enough that he didn’t press further.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eudora set out a jug of apple juice and sat down at the table. “How did you sleep?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was only a shrug in response. He didn’t want to admit that he had another nightmare—something that had only started happening again after he left Dave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I slept well,” Diego said, piling the pancakes onto a plate. “I had a dream that Luther was building a rollercoaster in the courtyard of the Academy.” He turned around and set the plate on the table. “You and Five tried it out first, but I don’t think…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sound of Diego’s voice faded into the background as Klaus looked at the pancakes. He was frozen, his back stiff and upright, his hands clenched in his lap, his eyes filling with tears. The chocolate chip smiley faces looked back at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Truly a breakfast of champions.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Made by the best chef in all of New York.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Every time he closed his eyes, everywhere he turned, he saw Dave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The chair scraped against the ground as Klaus stood to his feet. “I… I have to go.” In a flash, he was back in the guest bedroom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diego sighed and grabbed a pancake, taking a bite out of the eye. “Well fuck.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“His heart’s been broken,” Eudora said softly, not looking up from her coffee mug. “Give him time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t have time,” Diego said. Frustration had started creeping into his voice, and he could only hope that nobody else could hear it. “We need answers. Ben’s death—I took too long. I didn’t believe Klaus before. I-I need to solve this. For Ben.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eudora sighed. “I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m telling him.” Diego stood up, his chair scraping against the floor much like how Klaus’ did. “I have to tell him. Maybe if he knew, then he would open up and help us out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time Eudora looked up, Diego already had the papers in his hand and was knocking on Klaus’ door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go away please,” Klaus said softly, presumably curled up in bed again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t do that, K. I need to tell you something important.” At Klaus’ silence, he entered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Klaus coraked, only curling into a tighter ball amongst the mountains of pillows and blankets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think we have a lead.” Diego stepped forward and began spreading the papers out on the bed. Klaus didn’t so much as lift his head, but Diego didn’t take that as a sign to stop. “See these letters? We have ‘D’ and ‘A.’ We think they’re for what hitman killed who, right?. Now, if we just knew who in the family were hitmen, we would be able to confirm that. And if we got a warrant for that house, we might be able to find that out. The only problem is, I don’t think the DA would really approve, and it would be really hard to get one signed.” Diego looked at Klaus, hoping he would give some indication that he had more information.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, Klaus,” Diego sighed. “You have to know something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he did. He knew that Dave and Edward were in the Family, and were both probably hitmen for Damien Caspary, and that they communicated via side phones and they all were well paid. But he couldn’t bring himself to form the words. If he spoke them, then they would be true. Then the love of his life would be a cold-blooded killer—a man who murdered Klaus’ brother in exchange for some money. So he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even move.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine.” Diego began gathering the papers up, angrily stacking them on top of each other and not caring if some got wrinkled. “This is bigger than you, and it’s bigger than me—it’s even bigger than Ben. People are dying, Klays, and we’re going to find out who is killing them and bring them to justice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the door slammed shut, Klaus just pulled the blanket closer to his face, curled up tighter, and closed his eyes.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Klaus. Klaus! Klaus, listen to me!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Klaus shot to his feet. “Ben?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>His brother sighed. “Yes. Jesus, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you forever!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Wh—Am I dreaming right now?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ben shook his head and waved his hand, completely dismissing the question. “I need you to listen to me, okay?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Um, alright.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ben placed his hands together and pursed his lips for a moment. “Okay. So, yes Dave technically killed me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Klaus winced. “I don’t want to talk about this.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“We have to. Yes, he killed me, but he didn’t want to.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That caught Klaus’ attention. “What do you mean? Why would you kill somebody if you don’t want to? Just </span>
  </em>
  <span>don’t</span>
  <em>
    <span> kill them.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s not that simple. Listen, you know how on my autopsy report it said that I had eaten some beef, cabbages, stuff like that, right before I died?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah. Why did you, by the way? I mean, you don’t really eat red meat all that much, right?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah, hurts my stomach. Which is my point. Dave picked me up from the bus stop. I got into his car because I recognized him as the cop who told me that I should stop looking into this stuff for my own good. I knew he’d have answers. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“He took me to a community kitchen and made… uh… I don’t know, I forgot what it was called. Holi-somethings—a Jewish food. He told me all about how his mom would make them, and he answered every question I asked him. Then, when he was supposed to bring me home, he told me he was sorry, and pulled off the main road. As we made our way to the warehouse, he kept saying how sorry he was.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Please stop,” Klaus whimpered. He couldn’t take any more.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But Ben was undeterred. “He let me close my eyes before he did it—”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ben, please.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“—The last thing I heard before the gunshot was him crying.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Klaus shook his head, not even bothering to wipe the tears from his eyes. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked, his voice thick.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Forgive him, Klaus. I have. And you have to too. Please. He was forced to do this.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Klaus’ lower lip wobbled. “I can’t. I can’t, Ben, he </span>
  </em>
  <span>killed</span>
  <em>
    <span> you! I can’t just forgive him for that!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ben sighed. “I don’t have much time, I’m going to have to go soon. I need you to promise me you’ll at least defend him. Don’t give up on him, Klaus, he needs you. And you need him.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“The fuck does that—”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Klaus.”</span>
  <em>
    <span> Ben’s voice got sterner, which promptly shut Klaus up. “For once, please listen to me. I know what I’m talking about.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Klaus’ lower lip quivered. Not listening to Ben was what had gotten them into this mess, after all. “Fine, okay. Yeah. I’ll… help him, or whatever.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ben smiled at him. “Thank you. I’m sorry, I wish I could help you more.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“No, no, it’s okay. Are you… are you okay and alright and stuff?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That made Ben laugh. “I’m dead. But yeah, I’m okay.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Klaus opened his mouth to say something else—tell him how sorry he was for writing Ben off before, or ask how the fuck he was supposed to help Dave—but Ben just held up a hand and shook his head. “I have to go. Take care of yourself, Klaus.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh. Okay. Bye, Benny.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Bye, Klaus. I love you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I love you too.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>The next morning, Klaus woke with tears on his cheeks, but he felt better than he had in weeks. Things were going to be okay. They had to be.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>bby</p>
<p>Author's Note:</p>
<ul>
<li>Reminder that Diego is the best big brother to Klaus and Eudora is forever the caretaker friend</li>
<li>The food was holishkes! You can find more info on them <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Holishkes%22">here!</a> They sound really really good and now I'm hungry</li>
</ul>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. It's a Modern Ruin and We Are Responsible</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter's title is from "Neon Rust" by Frank Carter &amp; the Rattlesnakes!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Dave came home, he was stinking of booze and swaying on his feet, but even in that state he could feel Klaus’ absence. A lot of Klaus’ things were still there, but they felt wrong. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Dave stumbled up the stairs, almost falling on his face, he broke down for the fourth time that night at the sight of his room, the confirmation of what he had felt: no Klaus. Not even a note. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That night, Dave fell asleep hugging Klaus’ pillow tight to his chest, wishing that he had more than just a lingering smell to soothe his dreams.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He woke up the next morning with instant regret. Not that he had told Klaus the truth, not even really that he had relapsed, but that he had let himself get this far down this path. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You could have done something,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he scolded himself as he peeled his sweaty self off the hardwood floor. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You could have left earlier, disobeyed sooner, stopped all of this from happening.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead of taking a shower like he usually did, Dave filled the bathtub and sat in the water for what must have been hours on end—something he had found Klaus doing often. Klaus would always say that the water helped him relax, it made things quiet and peaceful. Dave prayed it would do the same for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t. All it did was make him think about Klaus, which made him think about how he hurt Klaus, lied to him, betrayed him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dave choked on a sob and scrambled out of the tub before anything could get any worse.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow, despite how his chest felt like he’d been shot and there was just a gaping wound where his heart should be, Dave didn’t regret a second he spent with Klaus. For the first time in his life, he had moments of true happiness and love. That was something that nobody could ever take away from him, not even Dam—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave froze and stared at his reflection in the mirror. “Shit.” If Klaus was gone, then Damien knew Dave didn’t finish the job—or if he didn’t, then he was going to find out very quickly. And then a target would be on both his and Klaus’ head, and no amount of love was going to remove it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need to get out of here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He only took the essentials: a few changes of clothes, some money, food, the information he’d collected on the Family, and a few things that Klaus left behind that Dave knew he loved. </span>
  <em>
    <span>(Just in case I come across Klaus along the way, so I can give them to him,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he rationalized to himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not because they smell like him.</span>
  </em>
  <span>) One of his backpacks was missing, so he took the slightly smaller one with him, locked the door behind himself, and hid the key.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gave himself a week max before Damien realized he was gone. That was alright, though. Dave knew how to disappear.</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>As much as Dave wanted to, he couldn’t go to the cops. There were too many cops who were being controlled in one way or another by Damien—whether it be by money, blackmail, threats, or a mixture of the three.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was no stranger to having people in the Family be mad at him. It was something that had happened ever since he was a kid, always different from the rest. He was deemed too soft from the start: scared of guns, quick to cry, Mama's boy. He wasn’t like his older brother, cool and unflinching. He nursed baby deer back to health, he didn’t kill them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That being said, this was big. Bigger than what had happened months before, when Dave got way too close to getting kicked out of the Family (and then killed) because Damien had somehow found out that Dave tried to warn that kind journalist, Ben. Dave still had to suppress a shudder when he thought about it too much. The whole situation was bad. He’d never seen Damien so angry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, though, that had nothing on what was going to happen now once Damien found out that Dave not only didn’t follow orders, but also that he let somebody with all of this information on the Family run free. Dave had to keep his head down, or else he was going to be dead—or worse. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d heard rumors about how some members would torture their victims to death. Dave hoped he never had to even look at a person who would do such a thing. It made his stomach turn. The requirement was just to kill the target. Some people took that a few steps further than they had to. Dave didn’t want to be on the other side of that blade.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His first night, he got a motel room with some of the cash he’d grabbed. The sheets were unwashed and smelled of sweat, but the smell somehow made his stomach turn less than the sheets back at home did. He took a quick shower, left a large tip, and then disappeared again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Experience and training taught him he couldn’t stay in one place too long. Protocol stated that if he wanted to disappear (usually from not-turned cops) he should stay in motels until he was safe and pay with cash under a different name. So, that was exactly what he couldn’t do. Dave double checked the contents of his backpack and set off to find a nice, secluded place to sleep in an alley somewhere, trying his best not to think about how Klaus had to do this countless nights before they met.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Before you kidnapped him,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he scolded himself, shaking his head as he turned down another alley.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!” A voice called out from the shadows and Dave’s fists were immediately up, ready to put up a fight if he needed. He looked around for a face to put to the voice, his heart rate rising until the person finally stepped out into the open. “Why do you look familiar?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave blinked at the figure before him. The person was scrawny, with dark skin that starkly contrasted with the matted fur coat he had slung over his shoulders. It was Fur Coat from when Dave first saw Klaus. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh…” He blinked. “I don’t know. Maybe you have me conf—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You and another man were watching my friend and I in a car, weren’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>How the fuck did he notice us? Also, how the fuck did he remember that?</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave wanted to lie, but lying was how he got into the mess with Klaus that he knew was going to be impossible to dig himself out of. So, he went against every instinct and told the truth. “Yeah, we were. A few months back. How did you remember that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fur Coat shrugged. “I just have a good memory like that. Always have. Do you know where my friend went?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, uh, it’s a long story, and not particularly one that I can tell out in the open.” Dave looked around the alleyway, sure that he looked like some paranoid crazy person. “Do you think we could go somewhere else?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fur Coat fixed a scrutinizing gaze on Dave, scanning him. “You’re on the run.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. He knew. “You in danger?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. You could say that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is my friend in danger?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave clenched his jaw. “I don’t exactly know. The people who are looking for him—the man who you saw me with is their leader, and they’re also looking for me. For now, I think Klaus is safe. At least I hope he is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fur Coat scanned him again, looking for some hint of a lie or chink in his armor. “Jeez,” he finally muttered under his breath. “Alright. Do you have a place to go?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not r—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Follow me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And just like that, Fur Coat was already halfway back into the shadows. Dave had to jog to catch up, pushing away all of the questions that sat on the tip of his tongue. There would be time for that later.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave struggled to keep up with him. As scrawny as he looked, he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> fast. It didn’t help that Dave had his heavy backpack weighing him down. Sure, Dave worked out, but even he wasn’t prepared for this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Fur Coat finally came to a stop, he turned to Dave, not even a drop of sweat on his perfectly plucked brow. “It’ll be safe to talk here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Dave asked, a little out of breath as he took a step back to look at the abandoned, run down building. Nothing about this looked safe. It looked like where people went to die—Dave would know. “Are you sure?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fur Coat squinted. “Yeah,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “This is my home. ‘Course it’s safe.” He turned around to undo the lock and heaved open the heavy door. “Welcome to my humble abode.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t anything special, especially not after spending years in the penthouse. But it was still nice, all things considered. He had a little sleeping area set up and there was what looked to be a work area next to it. There were little plants by the one window that wasn’t boarded up. Next to them were some candles, bowls, papers with symbols drawn on them, cards, and other things Dave couldn’t get a good look at. It was all tidy, save for the piles of wires and deconstructed electronics every few steps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow,” Dave said under his breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can stay here until you have some other place to go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Th-Thank you. Wow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugged. “A friend of Klaus’ is a friend of mine. And I look after my friends. Speaking of, how do you know Klaus? Why were you watching us?” He hopped up onto the table, which looked to be a stack of wooden pallets covered in a table cloth. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Interesting.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave had already decided he wasn’t going to lie. Even if it meant that this nice person would kick him out, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going back to lying. “I was in the mob; I was supposed to kill Klaus.” He paused, waiting for some laughter, or cursing, or any reaction, really. Fur Coat didn’t even blink, so Dave continued. “We were watching because the boss—Damien Caspary—was showing me who my target was. When I took Klaus back to my place, I didn’t do it. And we…” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fell in love. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Grew close.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Damien Caspary,” Fur Coat repeated, shooting Dave a knowing look. Dave’s coverup hadn’t worked. “Klaus was looking for him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, before he disappeared. He knew he was connected to his brother’s death, because that’s who he was investigating before he died. He wanted to break into Damien’s house and try to get files on the guy. I guess that crazy son of a bitch actually did it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A fresh wave of guilt crashed over Dave, so bad that he had to sit down on the floor. He felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>horrible</span>
  </em>
  <span> for having done this to Klaus. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m a horrible person.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, whatever you’re doing, stop it. You didn’t kill Klaus.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave shook his head. “I killed his brother, though. Ben.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fur Coat took a deep breath through his nose and made a popping noise with his mouth. “Jeez. Yeah, that’s pretty shitty.” He trailed off for a moment, staring off into space, before looking down at Dave. “Did you want to?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you want to kill Ben?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! Of course not!” Dave did everything he could to prevent having to kill Ben, and then when the time came and he didn’t have a choice, he did everything he could to end Ben’s life as peacefully as possible.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ve all done some pretty shitty things in the past,” Fur Coat said with a shrug. “Klaus’ll need some time, but he’ll come around.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave’s face twisted in confusion. “How in the world would he ‘come around’ to the fact that I killed his brother?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because you’re a good person.” The way Fur Coat said it so simply almost made Dave believe it. “He’s been with </span>
  <em>
    <span>a lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of shitty people, and gone through a lot of shitty stuff—ever since birth. You being a good person to him won’t be something he’ll easily forget.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you know whether I’m a good person or not?” Dave sputtered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s your name?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dave.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fantastic. Hi, Dave, I’m Jay. Dave, everything about you </span>
  <em>
    <span>screams</span>
  </em>
  <span> ‘good person caught in a bad situation,’ something I, myself—” Jay motioned around him to their surroundings, “—am quite familiar with. And Klaus is familiar with it too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave softened a little, but not enough to stop his defensiveness. “That’s not enough to forgive somebody for killing their brother, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but it’s a start.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that, Jay got off the table and walked over to the sleeping area. Dave turned his head to follow his movements, watching as he got a blunt from the bare mattress on the ground and lit it with a lighter he’d dug out of his coat pocket. “Tell me about yourself, Dave.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave scoffed. “What is there to tell?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jay shrugged. “Childhood shit. Was Daddy a dickhead, was Mommy a bitch, any siblings, schoolyard bullies. That sort of stuff.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew there was no real reason to, but hearing Jay suggest anything bad about Dave’s Mom made his skin crawl. “My mom was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>mensch,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and I loved her with all of my heart.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jay smirked a little. “So you’re a mama’s boy? How about Daddy?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave sighed. He had no idea why he was telling Jay all of this. “You were right about him. He did some horrible things, especially to my sisters. They didn’t deserve that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, he had to have done some stuff to you,” Jay said lightly, like he wasn’t implying that Dave had gone through horrific abuse as a kid. “Did you deserve what he did?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I, uh…” Dave trailed off for a  moment, before frowning and looking up at Jay. “I don’t really see how any of that is your business.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jay giggled and held up his hands. “I didn’t mean to offend. Just wondering. You sort of had that energy about you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave didn’t know what “that energy” meant, just that he wanted nothing to do with it. Even if Jay was right that his father hadn’t always treated him the best, that didn’t mean that he had any right to talk about it. That was Dave’s business and Dave’s alone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stood up, his hands in fists at his sides. “Do you want to know where Klaus is or not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The smile on Jay’s face dropped. “What do you know about where he is?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know he went to his brother’s. The cop’s. Which probably isn’t good news.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jay crossed his arms. “Why isn’t that good news? His brother always takes care of him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The police force is… corrupted. We—The Family turned enough of the cops to their side that Klaus being with a cop is a bad idea. They’ll probably be able to find him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Diego isn’t corrupt. He’s probably one of the only good cops in the whole city.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave looked down at his hands. “Yeah, well, one good cop in a corrupt system…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t need to finish his sentence for Jay to understand. “Oh. Yeah. Jeez, okay, so what do we do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We?” Dave echoed. As grateful as he was for all of the help that Jay had given him, the last thing he wanted to do was to drag him into this whole mess with him. “This is really dangerous shit, you shouldn’t be a part of it. Thank you, but—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m helping. You need me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave blinked and tilted his head to the side. He could tell just by the look on Jay’s  face that there was no arguing. “Alright.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I need you guys to know how much I love Jay. Like, what a babey, dude. He's such a witchy legend. Sorry this chapter was a little late, my partner and I just got on the lake!</p>
<p>Thank you guys for reading! I love you all so much &lt;3</p>
<p>Author's Note:</p>
<ul>
<li>Mensch: Yiddish, a person who is kind and considerate</li>
</ul>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Please Don't Go, I Love You So</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just a quick note before starting this chapter—this is where a lot of the warnings come into play. Stay safe! &lt;3 The chapter title is from "Breezeblocks" by Alt-J!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There was a sharp knock on the front door, causing Diego to immediately roll his eyes. “If it’s another one of those fucking racists asking for money, I swear I’m getting my knives back out of the closet. These people have </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just answer the door, Diego,” Eudora sighed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, whatever.” He grumbled under his breath and shuffled over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door swung open to reveal a rather built man, slightly taller than Diego. He ran a hand through his hair and shot him a smile that could almost be described as sheepish, if not for the cockiness in his eyes. “Hi, are you Diego Hargreeves?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diego frowned, keeping one hand firmly on the door in case he felt the need to slam it in the stranger’s face. “Who are you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, see, I’m your bro—sibling’s boyfriend, Edward. He disappeared a little bit ago, and I’ve been looking around, you know, in case he got himself into any trouble. I don’t know why it took me so long to think to come to you!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh huh.” Diego’s frown softened slightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Has he been staying here, by chance?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Possibly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward’s face broke out into a bigger smile, which still seemed plastic at the edges. “Great! Wow, that’s such a relief. Do you think I could talk to him? I just wanted to see how he was doing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, sure. Give me a second, I’ll go get him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t really faze Diego that he didn’t recognize Edward. If he was honest, he could really only think of one of Klaus’ friends who he had actually met, and that was only briefly before he had to turn and chase Klaus down an alley. That being said, there was something slightly off about him. Maybe it was the way that he seemed too put together, or the fact that he always seemed to have some sort of sneer, despite whatever expression his face actually held.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So, when he reached what had effectively become Klaus’ room, he did so not really expecting Klaus to agree to see him. Still, though, he knocked on the door and announced that Klaus had a visitor—someone by the name of Edward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus emerged from his room looking pale and shaky, running his hand through his long hair countless times like he was still checking to make sure it was still long and not liking the answer. “I, uh, he’s here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Diego said, a frown still sitting firmly on his face, “out on the porch. Listen, if you don’t want to talk to him, I can tell him to fuck right off, and—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no.” That would only make things worse, Klaus figured. If Edward knew where he was, there was no use in sending him away. “No, I’ll talk to him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright. Well, front porch. Can’t miss him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus let out a rather nervous laugh and paused right before he opened the door. “I love you, Di,” he said gently, then slipped outside before Diego had a chance to respond.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man’s back was turned, but that did nothing to calm the fear, anger, sickness that Klaus felt standing in the shadow of his broad frame. “Wh—” Klaus cut himself off and cleared his throat. His voice had wavered far too much for his liking. “What are you doing here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward turned around. His face was blank, which instilled more fear in Klaus than anything else could possibly do. It was like a bucket of ice water was dumped over his head, and suddenly any facade of strength had been washed away. He could feel himself shrink and begin to tremble under the harsh gaze. He was trapped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We need to talk,” Edward said, his voice firm and leaving no room for discussion. “Let’s go sit in my car, where we won’t be overheard.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even though Klaus had spent months away from Edward, all of the recovery he went through had disappeared and he found himself silently obeying, just like back when he lived in that wretched house. Hot tears of shame gathered in his eyes as he felt all of the work and growth he’d done with Dave quickly slip away under Edward’s shadow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry, Dave.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward didn’t speak again until they reached the car. “You can keep the passenger door open if that would make you less jumpy. I’m not going to take you here against your will. It will all be your choice.” With that, he opened the driver’s side door and got in, leaving Klaus alone, shaking, and defenseless outside the car.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s okay, Klaus. You got this.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The hollow words of encouragement did nothing against the growing pit of fear in his stomach, but the slight placebo of hyping himself up was enough to get him in the car and leave the door open. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want you to come with me.” Edward spoke slowly and his voice remained steady, like he wasn’t a powder keg ready to explode at any moment. Klaus could sense the thrumming anger right beneath the surface of his skin, and he wanted nothing more than to get as far away as possible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mouth was dry; he had to swallow before he spoke. “How did you find me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward narrowed his eyes. “You’re sober. How long have you been sober?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m a few months clean, I don’t know.” He knew better than to evade Edward’s questioning a second time in the row, even if he didn’t want to answer anything. “I started a little bit after you… after I left you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded understandingly. “Dave’s work, no doubt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward had no right to speak the name of a person as kind and loving as Dave, Klaus decided. “How do you know Dave?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward hummed, noncommittal. “Coworker. But you already knew that, didn’t you? You heard us talking before you left.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus’ heart leapt up into his throat. “What?” </span>
  <em>
    <span>How does he know?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dave ratted you out. That’s how I found you, you know. He told us where you’d go, right before he told me to do my worst as soon as I found you.” A creeping smile pulled at the edges of Edward’s lips unnaturally at Klaus’ horrified look. “It’s true. He said he was glad you left—he couldn’t stand the effort it took for him to look after such a junkie whore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. All of the kind touches, the warm looks, the soft words, the caring gestures—they couldn’t have all been a part of some ploy, right?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward chuckled at the scared, disbelieving look on Klaus’ face. “I mean come on, you already knew he was lying about who he was. He’s a murderer, Klaus. He doesn’t give a shit about you. I can’t believe you told him you </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved</span>
  </em>
  <span> him. How pathetic.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus remained silent. It was like his mouth just stopped working. He couldn’t do anything to react, his mind was lagging too far behind, trying to catch up as he just stared out the windshield before him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen to me and listen to me well.” Edward’s rough hand grabbed hold of Klaus’ face and turned it towards himself. “You either go back in there and tell your brother and his wife that you’re happy to come with me, or I burn their house down and kill the both of them in front of you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That snapped Klaus to attention. When Edward threw his face away—hard enough that the side of his head would have cracked against the side window if the door hadn’t been open—Klaus leapt out of the car. “You can’t,” he sputtered. “You won’t do it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward smiled and tilted his head. He glanced down at his hand, which was now holding a small handgun. “Do you really want to make that bet?”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>If Klaus had any say in it, the car ride would have been silent. If he was going to have a panic attack, he would at least appreciate being able to do so in peace. That being said, Edward was never one for politeness. As he drove, he sang along off-key to the classic rock radio station, beating on his steering wheel and bobbing his head so violently Klaus wasn’t sure how he could still see well enough to drive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was casual. To any outside viewer, they were two people out on a drive, possibly to pick up something from the store or on their way home from an outing. And that was the worst part: there were so many people about, all going through the motions, none of them truly seeing what was going on. It was like they were transparent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that that meant much, of course. Any movement Klaus made caught Edward’s sharp eye. If Klaus tried to signal the outside world, he’d be dead before he even finished waving his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward shut off the car. Immediately, the silence was stifling. The air felt thick in Klaus’ lungs and it was hard to breathe. “Where are we?” he managed to get out, taking a risk and looking away from Edward so he could examine their surroundings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In any other situation, Klaus would have laughed at how cliché it was. The abandoned warehouse was a familiar setting—often a good  place for a drug deal, or sometimes even a quickie. Still, though, the implications were not lost on him. They were alone, possibly the only people within more than a mile radius. Klaus was in danger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward got out of the car and stalked around to the passenger side. He opened the door. “Get out,” he commanded simply, not leaving any room for question. When Klaus didn’t immediately comply, his hand flashed out, grabbed Klaus by the collar, and pulled so harshly that Klaus came spilling out of the car and landed on the sharp gravel. “Come on,” he said, spitting on the ground right next to Klaus’ scraped up hand, “or I’ll drag you in myself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus had no choice but to obey. He pulled himself to his feet and silently followed Edward into one of the warehouses.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s nobody else around for miles,” Edward hummed, like he was a realtor giving a house tour to a potential buyer. “It really is convenient—sit in that chair—for those of us who value privacy. You know me, you know I love privacy.” His gaze lingered on Klaus’ form in the chair, a small smile on his lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus’ eyes were glued on him, tracking every movement like that was going to save him from whatever was going to happen next. Even despite that small modicum of control, he could tell that he was shaking like a leaf caught in a hurricane and that Edward loved it. A tear silently slipped down his cheek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward’s smile turned into an exaggerated pout. “What’s wrong? Why so quiet? Before, I couldn’t get you to shut up. Is this all it takes to stop that mouth from running all the time?” There was no response from Klaus, so Edward just scoffed. “Put your arms on the arm rests. I’m tying you up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was helpless. He could barely squirm, the ropes cutting into his wrists. Edward’s breath was hot and heavy as he tied him up—clearly he was taking enjoyment out of the situation. Klaus debated spitting in his face when he got close, but he knew angering him would only make the situation end worse for him. He’d witnessed first hand the effects of Edward’s rage and  he had the scars to show for it. If he wanted to make it out alive, he had to bide his time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be back,” Edward announced once he was satisfied that Klaus wasn’t going anywhere. “I need a few things.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In the few moments Klaus was left alone, he did his best to get his bearings. For once, he was glad for his deranged (adopted) father’s fantasies of a world gone haywire and subsequent training for almost any situation. Klaus could remember the lesson on kidnapping (and wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> a phrase?), that getting a good look at your surroundings will increase your chances of survival. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, in theory at least. It seemed pretty bullshit at the time, and it still seemed bullshit as Klaus sat there, tied up in the middle of an empty warehouse in the part of town that was basically abandoned. Sure, Klaus could see that there was a puddle by the door with some gasoline shimmering on the surface, but what was that going to do to stop Edward from murdering him right there?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Speaking of—</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hope you didn’t miss me too much.” Edward’s voice boomed and echoed around the large, empty room on his return. From what Klaus could see (which wasn’t much, considering Edward was still mostly behind him and Klaus could only turn around so far) he was carrying some sort of briefcase. Not good news. “I brought a few things.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A glint of light off silver and Klaus knew exactly what “things” Edward had grabbed. “Knives?” Klaus blanched at the sight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep! Just a little something to make this more fun for myself. You know, put the fun in mundane.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Make what—?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know what Dave does, right? Or, I should say, did.” He continued, past Klaus’ protests for him to slow down and explain his correction. “No? He was a hitman. I still am one, of course. I always try to have fun on the job. Dave was always so… so boring, you know? Making it all look like a suicide—I don’t know how he didn’t blow his own brains out with that gun of his.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where’s Dave? Is he alright? What happened to him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward sighed and shook his head. “I’m getting tired of all your questions.” With that, he grabbed a length of cloth and stepped closer to Klaus, who promptly slammed his mouth shut and started shaking his head. Edward just tsked. “Now, Klaus. You either need to cooperate, or I’m going to make you. And I don’t think it would be very fun for you if I had to make you. Open your mouth.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus just glared up at him in response.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, all of you always act like you’re going to somehow win this.” He reached forward. One hand went to Klaus’ nose, pinching it shut. The other went to the underside of Klaus’ chin, where he dug his fingers into either side of Klaus’ cheeks to force his teeth open. Within a few seconds, there was a gag in Klaus’ mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah.” Edward stepped back with a smile. “Much better. Now onto the main event. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this to you. Beating you is one thing, but there’s just something special about my tools, you know? I’m so glad Damien let </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> take care of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was nothing Klaus could do. He was tied down, away from anybody who could hear him. Even if there did happen to be a random passerby, he wouldn’t be able to cry out because of the cloth shoved between Klaus’ teeth. So, Klaus did the only thing that he could do: he clenched his teeth and willed himself not to cry, then he closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see what was going to happen next.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Life with Dave had made him soft. If this happened months ago, Klaus would have been able to laugh and spit in Edward’s face. He wouldn’t be shaking. Klaus used to have a high tolerance to pain. Not anymore, apparently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first slice of the knife against his thigh pulled a whimper out of Klaus’ lips. Edward spat some words at him, filled with filth and hate, before slicing his blade through Klaus’ arm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m gonna fucking ruin you,” Edward growled under his breath, slightly shaking. All the rage he usually kept below the surface was starting to slip. “You’re going to bleed to death, alone, just like you deserve.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus’ cheek was next. “You always think you’re so fucking pretty, that you can get away with anything. Well you can’t! You’re just another piece of shit, worthless junkie. Nobody cares about you. Dave tricked you into thinking you were good, and you fell for it!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward’s rant continued as he littered more and more cuts across Klaus’ body. At one point, he set down the knives and started punching blow after blow, and Klaus just took it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had no reason to fight back. Diego and Eudora were going to find out what happened to Ben, and Dave was gone. If Edward was telling the truth, Dave hated him, never liked him. There was no reason to fight back. Klaus was done. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pretty soon, the world started to blur, double, and fade—a result of the combination of his eyes swelling and the rapidly growing pool of blood below him. Everything was running together: the pain, what little parts of the world he could see, Edward’s words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had no idea how long it had been when he suddenly heard shouts. Klaus didn’t even have the energy to lift his head to </span>
  <em>
    <span>try</span>
  </em>
  <span> to figure out what was happening, but he did his best to listen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the fuck are you doi—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Edward’s voice was cut off with a sharp </span>
  <em>
    <span>crack </span>
  </em>
  <span>followed by a thud. There were footsteps approaching the chair, and Klaus wanted to struggle but all he could manage was a light sob. He didn’t want any more pain. He just wanted it to stop. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please no,” Klaus panted, though it was barely audible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soft fingers ghosted over the broken skin on Klaus’ face, but immediately pulled back at Klaus’ sharp flinch. “Sorry,” the person mumbled, and Klaus refused to believe his ears. Their fingers moved down to start untying Klaus’ wrists from the chair. “I’m going to get you out of here, you’re going to be okay. I’m so so sorry. Edward’s—He’s… Don’t worry about him. I took care of him. I’m going to get you to a hospital and then—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The world began to drift in and out of focus again. Even his heart jumping and skipping at the voice wasn’t enough to ground him. Klaus’ head lolled forward and he was vaguely aware of blood dripping out of his open mouth into his lap. The person’s voice got more frantic. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no, no, Klaus, stay with me. Stay—</span>
  <em>
    <span>Jay!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Tell them to hurry the fuck up, he’s—Come on, Klaus, please. Please, I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jeez, she says the ambulance is still three minutes away at leas—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, come on, Klaus. Just three more minutes. Hold on for three more minutes, and then you’ll be okay. Please, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span> be okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The last thing Klaus heard before he fully slipped away was a muffled sob from Dave and a phone shattering against the concrete.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ahaha</p>
<p>Thank you for reading this! I love you all, even when I write stuff like this. Next chapter's title is from "Cold Cold Cold" by Cage the Elephant!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Doctor, the Problem’s in My Chest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Holy shit, s2 was wild, huh? Don't worry about any spoilers in this fic! (But I may have some oneshots in the works.) The title of this one is from "Cold Cold Cold" by Cage the Elephant!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Klaus pushed himself up from the ground and dusted his hands off. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath as he looked around. “Where the f—?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Klaus!” Rapid footsteps were Klaus’ only warning before something slammed into his side and knocked him to the ground. He was instantly caught in a tangle of limbs, and for a moment, Klaus was terrified that somebody from the Family had found him. But that fear was short lived—there was something not quite right about it: not only did the person know his name, but they also smelled and sounded a lot like—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ben?!” Klaus pulled himself free so he could get a better look at his assailant. “Holy shit!” Klaus wasn’t sure if he wanted to scramble away or hug Ben until the end of time. Caught in the middle, he froze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben realized this and sat back to let Klaus take it in—for a little bit, anyay. After it got too long, he laughed and reached out to run his fingers through Klaus’ curls. “How are you doing, Klaus?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I…” Klaus paused and frowned. “I don’t know. I was just—” He looked down at himself. No cuts, not bruises, no scars. “Huh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” was the sympathetic reply. “You’ll get used to it, don’t worry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben shrugged. “I did.” He turned his head to reveal… nothing. The absence of a hole in his head. There was no bullet wound.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Holy shit,” Klaus gasped for the second time. “Wait, were you like that in my dream?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben made a face at the word “dream,” but nodded his head. “Yeah, but you were preoccupied. You know, with seeing me, and everything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> am I seeing you? Am I dreaming again? Did I pass out?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben shook his head. “I’m really sorry, but I don’t have the time to explain all of that. You could go at any second, and I need to—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go </span>
  <em>
    <span>where?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> The look Ben leveled towards him was enough to make Klaus back down. “Yeah, alright, okay. What do you need to do, oh Benny mine?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben sighed. “Dave killed Edward,” he said, not necessarily with the tact one should  possess when delivering news as loaded as that. “You’re being taken to the hospital right now, and Jay and Dave got arrested. They’ll be okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus made a small, strangled noise. “What do you mean ‘they’ll be okay?’ Dave killed people! He killed you, he killed Edward! He’s fucked, Benny! And Jay was there—oh, they’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span> fucked!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, and there are a lot of cops who are on the Family’s side. But it’s okay. Trust me, Diego and Eudora will be on Dave’s side, just like you are, and Jay has nothing to do with this, so he’ll be released in no time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How could they possibly be on his side? The only reason why I am is because—” </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love him.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “—you told me to forgive him! What are you going to do, give them a little ghost call too and tell them what happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that. I can’t talk to them.” He sighed. “Dave needs to tell the entire truth, all about how he was stuck and didn’t have a choice. He’ll need to tell them how he killed me, and why he killed Edward. He needs to tell them everything he knows about the Family, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>then</span>
  </em>
  <span> there’s a good chance he’ll be allowed to walk. And I have a strong suspicion that he’s going to do just that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“How?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s some legal thing that I came across while investigating the Family while I was alive: the duress defense. I’m not a lawyer, but from what I’ve seen, I think he has a good shot. He was forced to be in the Family and he would have been in danger if he tried to escape.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus frowned and fell silent. It was all way too much to take in at once: Ben being there, escaping Edward, Ben being there, the whole duress defense thing,</span>
  <em>
    <span> Ben being there.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It was all just too much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben seemed to catch onto this and pressed his lips together before moving closer to Klaus. “Hey,” he said softly, putting his arm around his brother. “You’re okay. I’m… here. Dave and Jay will be alright, and Diego and Eudora are on their way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That last bit caught Klaus’ attention, and he turned to Ben with a slight frown. “On their way to where? Where are we?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ben shook his head and pulled Klaus into a tight hug. “I love you, Klaus. You’ll be alright.” When they separated, he held Klaus out at arm’s length to get a good look at him. “I would say that I hope I get to see you again soon, but I really don’t want you to get into any more trouble.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus frowned. “What do you—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Goodbye, Klaus.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, no, Ben—!”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Klaus was no stranger to getting (literally) jolted awake in the back of an ambulance: the air forcing itself into his lungs, the shot of electricity racing to his fingertips, the adrenaline making him feel like he’s about to vibrate off the gurney. It’s exhilarating. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He threw himself into a sitting position and let out a loud whoop, almost missing the soft “Thank god,” from his side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, Klaus thought it was somebody he knew, and he got that electric feeling again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe it was Ben, or Dave, or Jay, or Diego, or—</span>
  </em>
  <span>But it was the EMT. Young, by the looks of it. Probably her first torture victim. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I wonder how many of those they get?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Klaus sighed, running a trembling hand through his curls.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The EMT shot him a weird look, which was understandable. It must be pretty strange to see somebody jolt back to consciousness and then immediately strike up a conversation. Still, though, she replied with a simple “Hi.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you see anybody with me when you picked me up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, uh… Sort of.” She looked off to the side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sort of?” Klaus echoed, hoping she would elaborate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There was a dead guy on the ground, and two people getting carried away in handcuffs. One of them was real rowdy, and the, uh, scrawnier one was trying to comfort him, saying something about how you’ll be alright. He was right. You seem pretty alright to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus shook his head. “What do you mean ‘rowdy?’” </span>
  <em>
    <span>She’s talking about Dave, right?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, hollering his head off. Raising a whole lot of ruckus. Crying and everything. Called you ‘angel.’ Said he would meet you at the hospital.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, but—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The EMT nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. He’s probably either in jail or getting processed now. He won’t be at the hospital, that’s for sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So Dave and Jay were being taken to jail, both thinking that Klaus was either dead or close to it. Dave was hysterical and Jay was trying to calm him down. And Klaus had no way to contact either of them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. Shit. Hey, please don’t cry. It’ll be alright! Is he your brother, or something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus sniffed and shook his head, wiping his nose on the back of his bloody hand and streaking red across his face. “No. He’s my boyfriend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The EMT sucked in air through her teeth. “Well, I hate to break it to you, toots, but I think your boyfriend just killed somebody.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus laid back down on the gurney, pulled his knees up to his chest, and closed his eyes. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I know.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Klaus hated hospitals. Always had and probably always would. It wasn’t because he was afraid of needles (loved them, actually) or dying (he’d gotten close a few too many times to really care) or how clinical it was (cleaner than the alleys he used to sleep in). It was all the death. He could feel it in the air, pressing in around him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Needless to say, Klaus avoided hospitals at all costs. The death creeping through the air was half-tangible at times, and it was way worse than any infection or broken bone he’d survived without proper medical attention. Besides, if things got really bad, he could always stop by Diego’s or Vanya’s. They had the steadiest hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That being said, there was no avoiding the hospital this time around. The ambulance screeched to a halt and he got dragged into a blur of living and dead, pressing in all around him, sticking needles in and attaching sensors to him, barking orders and yelling. All Klaus could do was close his eyes and pray that it would all be over soon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At some point, the gurney he was in began to move and Klaus was brought into a room of his own—complete with a television that was off and a vinyl armchair that was empty. Then, he was left alone in the silent room to try and push away all the death he could just short of see filling the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus had settled on some random real estate show, but had to switch it over to a cooking show after they started looking at penthouses. The last thing he needed was another reminder of Dave. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That man had been on his mind ever since he’d come to. He couldn’t get Dave’s voice out of his head, those pleas and cries he heard right before he… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Wait, I passed out, right?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He made a mental note to ask later. That wasn’t anywhere close to the most pressing matter at the present, though. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t worried about Jay—he had been through jail and the whole process so many times he could probably do it all in a blindfold. That wasn’t the problem. What was the issue was Dave. And the both of them thinking that Klaus could be dead. And the fact that Klaus had just been tortured (possibly literally to death) by his ex, who was then killed by the person Klaus loved, who also was the one who killed Klaus’ brother. And the fact that Diego and Eudora would be beating themselves up over letting Klaus go with Edward. And the fact that he had just spoken to Ben. And the fact that—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Too much.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus took a deep breath and shifted his focus to watching a man try to make custard while only using knives as his utensils. Simpler things. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cooking show didn’t last long, sadly—there was a knock at the door that interrupted the host’s final thoughts. “Come in,” Klaus sighed, lamenting the fact that he hadn’t gotten the break from everything that he so desperately needed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diego entered the room first, closely followed by Eudora, who was cradling a stack of files to her side. Eudora sat in the chair, while Diego opted to stand at the foot of the bed, the expression on his face nearly unreadable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How are you feeling?” Eudora started after setting the papers on the ground beside her. “Any better? Can I get you anything?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>A break? Please?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Klaus shook his head. “I’m alright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen, about, uh, Edward.” Diego shoved his hands into his pockets as he spoke. Klaus could see the concentration on his face as he made a conscious effort not to stutter. “If I had known—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It wouldn’t have mattered,” Klaus sighed, closing his eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t want to talk about this.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “He’s… He’s good at making people do what he wants them to do. Kinda like Allison, but at least she isn’t cruel about it. Edward makes threats and hurts people to get his way. He would have hurt you guys if you tried to stop him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Klaus, you d-died! Your heart stopped, you bled out, y-you—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus flinched and squeezed his eyes shut harder, trying to will the entire conversation away. “Stop it! Stop!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eudora reached a hand out and set it on an uninjured part of Klaus’ arm. “It’s alright,” she said softly, while simultaneously sending a harsh look towards Diego. “We don’t have to talk about that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We, um,” Diego cleared his throat. “We stopped by the jail on the way over here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That made Klaus brighten up. “How are Dave and Jay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eudora shook her head and Diego looked down at his feet. “They’re really worried about you,” Diego finally said. “Dave a little more so than Jay, I think. Jay seems to be pretty confident in you being alright, Dave is…” He looked at Eudora and sighed. “I don’t think he’s taking it well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus’ heart twisted in his chest. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s really, er, he’s really torn up about it. Crying and stuff.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eudora shifted in her seat. “He was able to tell us all about what had happened, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Emotions flashed across Klaus’ face faster than anybody could register them. Inside, his mind was screaming at him, recounting the conversation with Ben. “Huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He confessed, Klaus,” Diego said, sitting down on the foot of the bed. “To everything. We know he killed Ben.” Tears immediately began to spill over Klaus’ cheeks and land on the scratchy sheets below him. Diego noticed this, gritted his teeth, and continued to talk. “He told us everything he knows about the Family, and all about his childhood—everything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus took a shuddering breath. That was more than even he knew.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Also—the thing about the letters on the corners of the pages. Do you remember me asking you about that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded, not trusting himself to be able to form the words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dave explained that. It’s some organizing bullshit—they’re the second letter of the first name of the person who performed the hit. So Dave didn’t kill Brooke. It was somebody who has ‘D’ as the second letter of their first name. Luckily, we have enough information on Damien’s Family that we might be able to pick out who it was.” Diego looked at his sibling and frowned. “Klaus? What’s wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frozen and pale, Klaus stared at the foot of the hospital bed with wide eyes. “I know who killed Brooke,” he whispered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both Diego and Eudora leaned forward in unison, but it was too sudden and Klaus couldn’t help but flinch back. After apologizing, Eudora asked, “Who, Klaus? Remember, you’re under our protection. You don’t have to worry about retaliation for naming names.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus shifted his horrified gaze up to Diego’s face. “It was Edward.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diego’s face turned bright red. “Edward, you mean that prick who—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It adds up,” Eudora sighed, resting her head on her hand. “Part of me wishes that he was still alive so he could rot in jail.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He got what he deserved,” Diego growled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eudora pressed her lips together and turned back to Klaus, who was looking pale and smaller than ever. “How are you doing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How was Klaus doing? Well, right about then, he was desperately wishing that all of this was just some horrible nightmare, that he’d wake up in Dave’s arms with a kiss on his forehead and the dream would burn away in the warm glow of the morning sun. Instead, he was lying in a cold hospital bed, death hanging around him in the air, unable to shake the weight of Edward from his mind, even despite him being dead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did I really die?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was one thing that Klaus always liked about Eudora: when she was delivering bad news, she had a knack for keeping her face firm yet sympathetic, like just then. “Yeah,” she said softly. “Blood loss and blunt force trauma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How did I—?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diego jumped in, his voice sounding rough. “You were brought back in the ambulance. Y-You… You weren’t supposed to make it. We talked to the nurses, they’re all shocked by how well you’re doing. They can’t explain it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” Klaus frowned and looked back down. For a few moments it was completely silent in the hospital room, save for the beeping and hissing of the machines and some noises  from neighboring rooms. “And Dave killed Edward?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diego and Eudora shared a look. “Dave confessed to it, and that’s what it looks like,” Eudora said carefully, leaning her elbows on her knees.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But he’ll be alright, right? He doesn’t have to go to jail for it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ben said—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ben?!” Diego yelped, but Klaus just kept talking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“—that there was something like the duress defense that could help him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eudora considered this for a moment, then shook her head. “That would work for his past crimes, but not Edward. For that, the best bet he has is self defense.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But it was self defense!” Klaus protested, pushing himself up into a sitting position and ignoring the pain that shot through his body at the movements. The heart monitor started beeping quicker, but Klaus just ignored that too. This was important. “Edward had a knife, and a gun! He </span>
  <em>
    <span>killed</span>
  </em>
  <span> me! It has to be self defense!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not a judge,” Eudora sighed. “Diego and I have to be impartial, I—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to speak to him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who, Dave?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not possible,” Eudora cut in. “I’m sorry, it can’t be done until he’s been processed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you at least tell him that I’m okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eudora nodded. “Yeah, of course. And Jay should be released from custody soon, so he’ll be able to visit you and catch you up on somethings.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diego, who had fallen silent, finally jumped into the conversation. “What do you mean by </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ben</span>
  </em>
  <span> saying those things?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” Klaus said carefully. “I’ve talked to him a few times since I left Dave, and there are some things before that that I think are really, actually Ben.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diego slowly sat on the bed, his jaw slack. “H-How… I mean, how is that even possible? What did he say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stuff about what Dave did, mostly. He told me about when Dave killed him, how much he didn’t want to do it and how he was really sad the whole time. And he told me about how Dave was basically forced to be a hitman from the start because he was raised that way and he had no way to escape. And he told me about the duress defense. And…” Klaus trailed off with a frown, noticing how Diego’s face was steadily getting redder and redder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What, Klaus?” asked Eudora gently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He said I should forgive Dave. For killing Ben.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At that, Diego was back on his feet. “You’re lying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Klaus squawked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re lying,” he repeated. “You just want an excuse to… Y-You… This </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> be true. Ben is dead! I f-f-found him. He’s dead. He can’t talk. You’re lying, o-or it was a dream, or something!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everything Klaus said was right,” Eudora said carefully, looking like she was having a hard time sifting through the new information as well. “He couldn’t have known some of that stuff, and yet he does, and it would be too much of a coincidence for him to guess it all and end up right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus closed his eyes and laid back down. A small noise slipped past his lips, catching the attention of the pair. “Klaus?” Eudora asked softly. “Are you alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head haltingly. “Head hurts,” he whispered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. We’ll come back tomorrow. Is that alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before the pair left, Diego opened his mouth like he wanted to say something. Klaus didn’t see this though, his eyes still closed, and Diego just shook his head and closed the door behind him, leaving Klaus with his headache and the death hanging around him.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope y'all enjoyed, thanks for reading! Next chapter's title is from The Cave by Mumford &amp; Sons! Just a head's up, by the time next chapter goes up I'll have moved into my college dorm. Because of that, my upload schedule of fics might slow down. I'm honestly not sure yet. I'm hoping to have the next two chapters prewritten, though, so that shouldn't affect this fic</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. I Need to Know How to Live My Life as It's Meant to Be</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter title is from "The Cave" by Mumford &amp; Sons!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was 10:00am, early by Klaus’ standards, when somebody entered the little hospital room and breathed out a soft “Jeez.” Klaus’ eyes snapped open and his face broke out into a grin when he saw his friend standing at the end of his bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jay!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jay smiled and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Hey, Klaus. Knew you’d be alright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How are you? How was jail? Tell me everything!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That made Jay laugh. “Alright, but first you gotta promise me something: chill the fuck out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus snorted and rolled his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m serious! You need to rest so you can recover, and you losing your shit over my scrawny self does </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> count as rest. So just, like, sit back and relax and let me do the talking, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, alright,” Klaus conceded with a heavy sigh, dramatically draping himself back over the pillow beneath him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jay shot him a smile and sat down on the end of the bed. “First things first: you look </span>
  <em>
    <span>rough.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, thank you. You know, I—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here, I brought you this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took a moment for Klaus’ eyes to focus, but once he did, he let out a little gasp and a squeal. “Oh  my god, Jay! Oh, I could kiss you right now!” He snatched the eyeliner out of his hand and started applying it and smudging it out with his fingers. “I’m complete.” He closed his darkly bordered eyes and sighed happily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Diego bought it. Gave it to me when they were letting me out and told me to tell you he was sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus’ bright grin sobered up a little. “Oh,” he whispered, looking down at the eyeliner pencil with a sort of reverence that wasn’t there before. “Well, thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah…” They fell into silence before Jay spoke up again. “Jail was an experience. I had never been arrested as a possible accomplice to a murder before, so that was new.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How’s uh—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dave?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jay sucked air in through his teeth. “Not great. He’s honestly kind of a mess. Like, he has a good chance of not getting charged with shit, but…” He was quiet again, and when he started speaking, it was just barely a whisper. “Your heart stopped, Klaus. He held you in his arms and he felt your heart stop beating. Even I—I mean jeez, Klaus.” Jay quickly wiped away tears that had fallen onto his cheeks. “That’s not easy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tears started to spring up in Klaus’ eyes too and he tried to swallow down the lump that had formed in his throat. “Here—Come here.” He spread his arms open as well as he could for Jay to hug him. “I’m alright. It’ll take a lot more than that to kill me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jay coughed out a rough laugh and sniffled against Klaus’ shoulder. “Yeah. You fuckin lunatic.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!” Klaus giggled and pulled back to shove him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jay let himself fall against the bed, giggling. “You keep that up and I won’t give you your other gift,” he joked, his smile growing when Klaus stilled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh? Are you the new Santa or something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that,” Jay hummed, sitting up so he could rummage through his bag, “and that instead you thanked me for being such a good friend. Ah. Here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus took it with a frown. “My sketchbook? Where’d you get this? I—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You left it at Dave’s,” Jay sighed. “When Dave left his penthouse—he had to so the Family wouldn’t find him—he grabbed that and a few of your other things because, I don’t know, it’s a dumb thing that people who fall in love do, I guess. It’s all in there.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus looked down at the sketchbook, his mouth agape. Before he could open it, though, Jay put a hand up. “Before you read that, I’m gonna go. I wanna get back to my place and take care of some shit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Klaus said with a nod. “Okay. Well, thank you, Jay. All of this—seeing you—really means a lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jay scoffed and sent him a smile. “Of course. I wasn’t just going to leave you alone in here to rot—especially without letting you know that your beau was losing his mind over you. Good job, by the way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get your own Dave,” Klaus shot back, a sly smile slipping onto his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who said I ever wanted one? He’s good, though. Keep him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus let his thumb rub over the rough surface of the sketchbook cover. “I’m trying to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, before you tear up again, I’m gonna go. Bye, Klaus. Please don’t get yourself killed again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No promises.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The moment the door clicked shut, Klaus opened the sketchbook. The first few pages were filled with drawings done by Klaus—mostly sketches of Dave. Once those came to an end, though, there were more drawings, this time in ink. At the lower corner of each one, there was a little sun. Klaus laughed wetly, not realizing he had started crying until the tears messed with the sound of his laugh. “Sunshine,” he said softly. The petname Klaus had for Dave. Of course.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He kept flipping, past the drawings of little trinkets, until he got to a handwritten letter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He started reading:</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Angel—</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I had planned out everything I wanted to say before this, but now that I’m actually sitting here writing, I have no idea how to start. I don’t even know if you’ll ever read this. I hope you will, because that will mean that I’ll get to see you again when I give this to you. I miss you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry. I should back up.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Right now I’m with Jay, your friend, in his home. He took me in after he found me, and he didn’t kick me out after I explained everything. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>He said that you would forgiv</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s really nice, in sort of an odd way. He gave me this little protection thing to carry in my pocket. When I see you, I’m going to give it to you. You deserve it more than I do. I… Shit, this is the part. Okay. So, about me:</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I was born into Damien Caspary’s Family. My dad and his brothers are all a part of it, so my siblings and my mom were dragged in too. I was taught how to shoot a gun when I was really  little, even though I was terrified of them. My dad and my uncle really didn’t like that. They hit me and I think my dad hit my mom. She tried to hide it, though. They made me a hitman because they were mad at me. I think it was a punishment for being too soft as a kid, I don’t know. I hated it, though. I hate it. I hate that the hands I used to braid your hair were the same ones that I used to kill people. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry. I swear I’m not saying this because I want you to forgive me. I just want you to know the person you lived with and loved (I hope it’s alright that I say that) for months. If you want to skip ahead, I put a little star by where this part ends.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>When I was assigned to be a hitman, I hated it. I remembered </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>all of my victim’s</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> all their names. I tried to leave at one point. I escaped for a few years, but they found me and dragged me back. And I was stuck. I had no choice but to do it. They would have killed me if I refused. Sometimes I thought about just letting them do that.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But then I started collecting information on the Family. That gave me purpose. I knew that if I just had enough info to give to the right people, then I would be able to take down the whole operation. I just had to get it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I almost had enough when I </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>met</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> was assigned to your brother, Ben. He was collecting information and that caught Damien’s attention. I tried to warn him to stop—I used that same phoney cop badge I showed you—but he didn’t listen. To make it worse, somebody found out that I tried to warn him and I got into big trouble, so I had to lay low and stop collecting information. Then I was told to kill Ben. I didn’t want to, but if I didn’t then they would have… Yeah.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s not fair, me choosing my life over Ben’s and all those other people’s. I just kept telling myself that I’m doing something good, trying to collect info on the Family. I don’t know if that was true.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>*I’m glad I met you, though. I’m sorry that I lied to you. I panicked. And then when I could have told the truth, I just kept lying. I’m sorry. I can’t apologize enough.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. And that’s selfish as hell for me to say. I lied to you. If you never wanted to see me again, I would understand that. But I just want you to know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I’m not saying that because I want you to forgive me, I just needed to get it off my chest.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Once I give what information I have to the police, I’m going to turn myself in too, and confess to it all. I hope I get to see you before then. I miss you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Dave</span>
  </em>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>Klaus choked out a sob, letting the sketchbook fall to his lap. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>The phone rang off to Klaus’ right, too loud for Klaus’ liking. Crying made his head hurt, and loud ringing phones only added to that problem. Not sure why anybody would be calling him, he just pulled the blankets closer to his chest and closed his eyes, willing the ringing to end soon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It didn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the fifth round of ringing, Klaus gritted his teeth and yanked the phone off the receiver. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The person on the other end paused, before hesitantly asking, “Klaus?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Immediately, chills raced down Klaus’ back and he sat straight up in the hospital bed, not caring how the IV tubes knocked against the bed railings or how his muscles screamed at him because </span>
  <em>
    <span>holy fucking shit, it was—</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Dave?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my gosh, sweetheart, it’s so good to hear your voice. Or—shit—Klaus.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head. “Huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I shouldn’t be calling you sweetheart,” Dave mumbled. “I’m sorry, force of habit. I’ll—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no, no, sweetheart is fine. Sweetheart, yekirì, all of it. Please, I missed it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a startled, wet laugh on the other end that Klaus couldn’t help but echo. “Holy shit, love, I missed it too. Wait, did you read the letter? I asked Jay to give it to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve read it ten times.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you’re still okay with being with me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus began to lay back against his pillow, letting out a relieved sigh. “Yeah, of course I am. Some weird shit happened, I’ll tell you all about it once you get out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, there was only silence on the other end. Dave took a breath before talking again: “It’s so nice to hear your voice. Words can’t—You died, Klaus.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was still so weird for Klaus to hear that. He didn’t want to dwell on it. “I’m here now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah you are.” He could hear the smile in Dave’s voice. “Are you alright? Are they taking care of you and stuff? Feeding you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus giggled. “They’re not starving me, but it’s not your pancakes.” Dave made a sad noise, and Klaus was quick to add, “But hey, I’ll be able to have those soon, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave was silent again, this time for longer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus’ smile fell. “Davey?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re getting out soon, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The phone speaker crackled as he sucked air in through his teeth. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I did a lot of—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you’ll be able to get out, I know you will. You’ll be found innocent—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dave sighed. “Klaus, I’m pleading guilty. To all of it. I’m done lying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> but Ben said you could use the duress defense and Eudora thought it would be a good idea too. You just need a good lawyer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don—Oh shit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus perked up at the sound of realization in Dave’s voice. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When are you getting out?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glanced over to the clock, “Uh, Diego’s coming to pick me up in about three hours. Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need you to do me a favor.”</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>“So why am I coming with you again?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus sighed and ran a tired hand down the side of his face. “Di, Dave said there’s a chance the Family could be watching this place in case he comes back. You’re here to protect me because, as adorable as I am, I’m in no state to fight right now.” He gestured down his body at the still healing cuts and bruises littering his pale skin, making sure to stick his leg out of his skirt to get the full effect.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, alright,” Diego grumbled and adjusted his harness. “I don’t like this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t like anything,” Klaus hummed, walking up the steps to the lobby and pulling the door open. He waved at the doorman and went into the elevator, Diego following him. “But it is what it is,” he continued once the doors slid shut.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diego rolled his eyes and shifted his weight to bump into Klaus, knocking him off balance. “What’s the plan, then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go in, get the money, and come back out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you know where the money is?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It took Klaus a second longer to respond. “Um, sort of. Mostly. Probably. Yeah, I do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Dave was telling him where it was, he had to do it in a sort of roundabout way, since there were people listening in, and those people could have been with the Family. Klaus knew it was in the upstairs hall closet—where Dave asked Klaus to paint the door. But other than that, nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They reached the penthouse and Diego reached out to pull the door open. “It’s locked.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Obviously.” Klaus dropped to his knees and ran his fingers along the doorframe, near the ground. After a few seconds, he wedged his fingers under the wood and pulled. A little compartment opened up and the key fell into his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dave showed me in case something happened to him and I needed to come back here.” He paused, the weight of what he had just said settling over his shoulders. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dave predicted something like this.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Before he could get too deep into thinking about it, he shook his head, turned the key, and opened the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus immediately rushed up the stairs while Diego stayed in the doorway, his mouth agape. “Holy shit. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>lived</span>
  </em>
  <span> here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Klaus called down, taking quick steps towards the hall closet. The sooner he found the money, the sooner he could leave and not have to worry about the Family breathing down his neck. (That was a lie. He knew he would always have to look over his shoulder. But at least out of the penthouse he had the illusion of safety.) “It’s owned by Damien. Dave just lived here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shoved coats to the side, and scanned the closet. Nothing exactly screamed “giant wad of money hidden here” at him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t see any sign of the Family, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t hurry,” Diego called up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus groaned under his breath. “Shit, okay, if I was money, where would I be hiding?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you said you knew where the money was.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up, I’m thinking!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just then, an odd feeling came over Klaus, starting at the base of his spine and shooting across his body. He was being watched. “Uh, are you sure the Family isn’t here?” he called down to Diego, his voice wavering slightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep. Why, what’s up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Klaus.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh shit, Ben,” Klaus whispered, looking around the hallway like he’d be able to see his brother. He couldn’t, but he knew he was there, just like in Damien’s house.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Klaus?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Klaus turned back to the closet, this time closing his eyes. He felt a little dumb, sticking his hands out and letting Ben guide him, but if it sort of worked one time, he knew it would happen again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Probably. Hopefully.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Please don’t make me look like an idiot.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a few moments of fumbling around, smacking his hand into things, and generally feeling like a fool, Klaus’ fingers found purchase on something. His eyes flew open to see what he’d discovered: a loose floorboard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He made quick work of it, fueled by desperation and fear, and was quickly able to pull the floorboard up. Pulling out the wad of money, he whispered a quick “Thanks, Benny,” and shoved it into his pocket. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you get it?” Diego asked as Klaus ran down the stairs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep. Now let’s get out of here, this place is giving me the creeps.”</span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>Klaus was happy to never leave his mountain of pillows and blankets again until he saw Dave, and even then, he wouldn’t complain if Dave just joined him and they stayed there forever. The world was quieter in the guest room of Diego and Eudora’s place, easier to deal with. It was nice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Diego came in to tell Klaus that he used the money to get a lawyer for Dave, all Klaus had to do was nod and bury himself deeper into the blankets. If he closed his eyes, things would slow down, and everything would be alright. If he took slow, steady breaths and stayed really still, in the morning, Dave would be there to wake him up. Klaus just knew it. Or, at the very least, he really hoped so.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey y'all, I just wanted to say a quick apology for this chapter being late. Turns out moving into college is a lot harder than I thought, and I wasn't prepared for that. Classes start tomorrow, and I'm really hoping that doesn't delay the epilogue. Also holy shit the epilogue is next and then this is over :( I've had so much fun writing this fic and I want to thank all of y'all who have supported me and left comments and kudos and all of that. I love you guys so much!</p>
<p>Also, does Jay is aro? I honestly wasn't planning for it but he ended up having those vibes and I am Not complaining</p>
<p>Next chapter's title is from "June Hymn" by The Decemberists <s>yes i know i've used that song for a title before, but in my defense it is a wonderful klave recovery song</s></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. The Yellow Bonnets Garland All the Lawn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter's title is from "June Hymn" by The Decemberists!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It had been weeks since Klaus last saw Dave’s face and even longer since he last heard his voice. For a while, Klaus tried to keep up with the court case, which was all over the news, but eventually he had to stop. Seeing Dave in that orange jumpsuit, his wrists and ankles shackled, made him feel sick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Klaus told Eudora and Diego that he didn’t want to keep watching the coverage on the case, Diego nodded, making a comment about it being out of sight, and therefore out of mind. Klaus hummed and nodded, but he knew that wasn’t true. There wasn’t a day that passed where Klaus didn’t think about Dave. His heart ached constantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was one thing that helped keep him grounded, keep him sane, and that was trying to figure out everything that had been happening with Ben. Every once in a while, Klaus would be able to tell that Ben was there. He couldn’t hear Ben, much to his frustration, but he could feel that he was there. He could tell when Ben was laughing at him, or when he was mad at him, or when he was sad. But that wasn’t enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus asked Jay if he had any experience talking to spirits, and Jay introduced him to a few methods. After a lot of trial and error, Klaus landed on using a spirit board. Once a day, Klaus would turn off the lights, light some candles, and directly communicate with Ben. Each time he did it, it got easier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another thing that provided some sort of distraction was Jay finally getting accepted into a college. As much as Klaus would have liked to take credit for encouraging Jay, it was mostly thanks to Eudora: she helped walk Jay through the steps of filling out the right paperwork, and she even got him a few extra scholarships so he would be able to go to college without worrying about the cost.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus had plenty of distractions, and yet Dave never left his mind. The thought of him weighed him down, making his shoulders hunch slightly and his mouth taste sour.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diego and Eudora treated him like he was made of glass the whole time. They made sure not to bring Dave up, they provided distractions, they always looked at him with such pity. It was both heartwarming and sickening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus just wanted it to be over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stayed in bed a lot, trying to sleep the nights away. Eventually, he came to master the art of positioning his pillows just so, so that when he closed his eyes and was descended half into sleep, he could just about imagine it was Dave pressed against his back, holding him close, warm, and safe.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Klaus was in that exact position when the doorbell rang, pulling a soft groan from Klaus’ tired lips. Diego and Eudora had left for the day, meaning there was no other person to answer the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hopefully they’ll just leave.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>They didn’t. The doorbell rang again and Klaus rolled his eyes. He dragged himself out of bed, not caring how his hair stuck out in all different directions or how days old eyeliner was smudged down his cheek. It didn’t matter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Klaus even had a chance to reach the door, the person on the other end started frantically knocking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m coming! I’m coming,” he complained, quickening his pace. The sooner he got this person to go away, the sooner he could go back to bed and listen to some Doors, he told himself. Self care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus ran a hand over his face right before pulling the door open. When he opened his eyes again, his heart leapt up into his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood there, choking on the name, when the other man rushed forward and pulled him into a hug. “I missed you so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus melted into Dave’s arms, a soft whimper escaping his mouth. The hug quickly shifted into a kiss until a rustle of plastic behind Klaus’ head made him pull back with a soft sound of alarm. “What’s that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Dave said sheepishly. “I brought you flowers.” He stepped back so he could present Klaus with a bouquet of white lilies of the valley, blue hyacinths, and myrtle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dave, these are </span>
  <em>
    <span>beautiful,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Klaus gushed, gently taking them and smelling them. “Oh my </span>
  <em>
    <span>god.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t want to turn up empty handed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, sweetheart, you didn’t—” Just then, it hit Klaus just what state he was in. Oily, unkempt hair, smudged makeup, probably really smelly. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t have to worry about that. I mean look at me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave’s face took on a more sympathetic look. Before continuing though, he asked if he could come inside. Klaus’ face flushed red and he nodded, leading him into the living room. Once they were situated, Dave spoke up again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When was the last time you took a bath, angel?”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>That was how they both ended up in the bathtub in the guest bathroom, Klaus’ back firmly and safely resting against Dave’s chest. Klaus hummed happily as Dave massaged shampoo into his curls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re practically purring,” Dave chuckled, the sound bubbling up from his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m happy,” Klaus sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave didn’t even try to suppress the smile that broke out across his face. “Yeah, me too.” He dipped his head down to start trailing kisses from Klaus’ shoulder up to his neck. Halfway through, though, Diego burst through the door before immediately clapping his hand over his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus fucking christ, Klaus!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus groaned and dropped his head backwards onto Dave’s shoulder. “You should have knocked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You weren’t answering your phone, I got worried.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was busy. I found Dave.” He turned his head to press a kiss to the stubble on Dave’s jaw. Dave, though clearly uncomfortable with the fact that there was only bubbles and his partner hiding his partner’s brother from seeing his dick, tilted his head to give Klaus better access.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, congrats. Nice to see you out, Dave. Please, both of you, move out soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus and Dave looked at each other, Dave squeezing his arms around Klaus’ torso. “Sounds good to me,” Dave whispered. “Where would you want to go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm… A cabin in the woods. Somewhere where we can just be ourselves and be happy. With a little garden out front.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Diego shook his head and left, closing the door behind him. Even with all of his muttering, though, he still couldn’t stop his smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could get a dog,” Dave said. “A big one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And a cat,” Klaus added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have money. We could do this, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Klaus hummed again, readjusting to get comfortable. “Sounds perfect. Cuddles first, though. Then planning for the future.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds perfect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dave pressed a kiss to Klaus’ temple. It was perfect, Klaus realized, safe in Dave’s arms. They were okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello I'm alive! Let's just ignore the fact that this is coming out almost a month after the previous chapter. It's fine. jfsdlkfj in all honesty I'm really sorry it's this late. I was not expecting college, top surgery stuff, and general life shit to kick my ass this hard. I love you guys. I'm sad to see this fic end, but thank you all for sticking around and reading it. You guys made these past few months worth it &lt;3</p><p>Author's Note:</p><ul>
<li>Okay so the flowers! Yes I did spend time looking at flower symbolism for this. White lilies of the valley symbolize a return to happiness, blue hyacinths symbolize constancy and sincerity, and myrtle symbolizes love and (in hebrew) marriage. So do with that what you will :)</li>
<li>Jay rights. Ben rights. Dave rights. Thank you for your time</li>
</ul>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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